Ties that Bind
by ficmouse
Summary: Sam's world is collapsing and it seems as if there's nothing left then Dylan asks her for help. Multi parter
1. Drinking Alone

_I probably shouldn't have started something new until I finshed Walking Away but the epilogue won't go right and this has been fighting it's way out of my imagination and onto the screen so I just got on with it and I hope you enjoy it._

1. Drinking Alone

Sam picked up the post on her way out of the flat for the early shift. She'd been shattered the night before and obviously failed to notice it in her mailbox on her way in. They were official looking communications in plain white window envelopes and didn't look remotely interesting so she stuffed them into her backpack and headed from work on her bike. She was early enough to have the staffroom to herself so she settled down with a large mug of coffee and decided to deal with her post. With any luck it would be rubbish and she could transfer it straight to the bin and not bother taking it home again.

She ripped open the first envelope which transpired to be from the CPS telling her that they would not be taking any action over her alleged assault on Keith Parr because there was no case to answer. She breathed a sigh of relief she'd always maintained that she'd done nothing wrong but it was good to know that the law agreed with her. Maybe now she could have her life back.

She opened the second letter and the familiar logo on the headed notepaper jumped out at her.

_General Medical Council_

_London_

_Dear Dr Nicholls,_

_You are directed to attend a hearing at our Portland Street building on ... In order that the matter of the alleged serious assault committed by you on the person of Keith Parr might be investigated further. . _.

Sam couldn't read anymore. Keith Parr must have made a complaint to the GMC and they thought there was something in it. She was going to be disciplined. She might lose her job or worse her registration. For as long as she could remember all she'd ever wanted was to be a doctor. It was what had kept her going through six years of Med. School and the year of hell that the BMA liked to call the postgraduate registration year. That was why she'd signed away six years of her life to the British Army to pay for her training. If they took her right to practice away from her after all that, it would all have been for nothing, worse she'd have sacrificed her marriage and lost the man she loved for nothing. Sinking back onto the staffroom sofa, she let the letter fall to the floor, covered her face with her hands and fought the sudden onslaught of tears that was threatening to overwhelm her.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there but eventually she thought she heard a movement behind her and sat up, sucking in a deep breath and visibly pulling herself together. She didn't want any of her colleagues to know about this not yet. She'd find a way to get through this and she'd do it without becoming the centre of hospital gossip again. The police didn't think it was her fault and Mr Jordan hadn't thought it was her fault. He'd insisted it was self defence right from the start and to give him his due so had Dylan. She would phone the medical defence union and they'd make a plan. She would not let that useless excuse of a man take her profession from her it was all she had left!

Calmly and deliberately she finished the cooling coffee and stood up ready to begin her day. There were still patients to be treated no matter what crisis was going on in her own life. It was much easier to deal with the patients problems than her own anyway, She remembered dropping the letter on the floor bent to pick it up and stuffed it into her locker – she'd rather no one found that laying around.

"Sam could I have a word?" She looked up to see Nick standing in the doorway looking rather awkward.

"Sure," she wondered why he didn't just come out with whatever it was and be done with it.

"Not here, in my office." He said uncomfortably shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

"Ok," she gave him a puzzled look, and wondered what it was he had to say to her that he couldn't say in the staffroom.

She followed him into his office and the vague sense of disquiet deepened into unaccountable nervousness when he firmly closed the door behind them and invited her to sit down. This much formality was unusual for Nick.

"Sam I've just received this from the GMC. They are considering disciplinary action against you over. I'm really sorry until it's all sorted out I've got no choice but to suspend you," he was definitely ill at ease she noted wondering if he hated this even more than she did

"But... you said you didn't blame me and I've a letter from the CPS they said I haven't got a case to answer." She protested bewildered.

"I really am very sorry Sam my hands are tied. Trust policy dictates that I have to ask you to be off hospital property in twenty minutes." He was very brisk obviously trying to get the unpleasant task over as quickly as possible. "If I were you Sam, I'd give the MDU a call."

"Whatever," she said trying to conceal her hurt and disappointment. She'd thought Nick was on her side.

"I know this is far from pleasant but I'm sure it will all be sorted out soon and we'll have you back in no time. Nick assured her. "On the bright side you are suspended on full pay. Innocent until proven guilty and all that."

It was cold comfort. She trailed out of the office disconsolately, changed out of her scrubs back into her own things and emptied her locker into her backpack hoping against hope none of her colleagues would ask any questions. She couldn't face any of them now. She walked slowly across reception towards the exit, wondering what she was going to do with her suddenly empty day.

"Sam what the hell are you doing? Are you ill?" Dylan barked irritably. "Is there a reason why you're sloping off out instead of helping me? Zoe's late, Lenny's flirting with Linda, Nick's hiding in his office and I've got a backlog a mile long."

"I'm not allowed near any patients. I've been suspended," she blurted out.

"What bloody idiot's done that?" He was clearly outraged and she felt a sudden warm glow that he was irate on her behalf.

"Nick" she said succinctly.

"What did he go and do that for?" he said in disgust.

"Apparently his hands are tied." Sam couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "It's Trust policy because the GMC is going to take action against me."

"All the Trust cares about is covering its arse." Dylan said resentfully "well you'd better bloody well go then. I'm sure I'll manage by myself I always do."

The warm glow faded abruptly when she realised Dylan hadn't sympathised, hadn't asked her why the GMC were taking action, hadn't expressed his faith that she'd be fine or even advised her to call the MDU. He didn't give a damn about her – only his workload and the smooth running of the ED.

Sam walked slowly out through the main doors of Holby ED hoping it wouldn't be for the last time. It was cold outside with a heavy dark grey sky threatening rain. All in all the day was as bleak as she was the perfect match to her mood. She hoped it wouldn't start to rain before she got herself and her bike home. There was nothing worse than heavy rain when you were cycling.

When she finally arrived back at the flat; she never called it a home it was just the place where she slept, she was cold, wet (the threatened rain having arrived with a vengeance) and very annoyed, as a road hog in a Chelsea tractor had driven past and drenched her in icy muddy water from a puddle. Today was definitely not her day. She dropped her stuff in the hall and took herself off to run a hot bath, she really fancied a long soak and put the kettle on for the coffee she'd been promising herself most of the way home. Apart from anything else it would kill some time. She had a long empty day ahead of her.

Afterwards she forced herself to make that phone call to the MDU. They agreed to send a representative to talk to her and appoint a solicitor on her behalf. They seemed very optimistic and assured her that she did have a very strong case for self defence. She was entitled to use reasonable force to defend herself or a colleague. They even pointed out that several people had recently not been charged by the CPS after killing someone in self defence. Indeed the man on the other end appeared to admire her efforts, openly wondering that a woman could conjure up the strength to break anyone's neck. Men were strange like that. She wasn't proud of herself she'd just done what she had to do, to protect Dylan.

She passed a solitary and aimless day. She had no idea what to do or when to do it. She'd not made any friends or taken up anything new since she came to Holby and the unexpected free time hung heavily on her hands. She wandered round the shops for a bit but shopping had never been for her and then went out for a long run. She wished she could have taken Dervla for a walk – the company would have been nice but she didn't have a key to Dylan's boat and even if she did she could hardly take his dog out without asking first.

She wondered if this was perhaps the most isolated she'd ever been. Just one day had made it abundantly clear to her that without her job she had nothing at all. If the GMC took any form of disciplinary action against her she'd be dishonorably discharged from the Army and what would she have then, no family, a husband who didn't want her, no profession, and no source of income. What the hell would she do?

Panic rose, as she considered the worst case scenario and wondered what she would do. She could resign herself to a life on benefits, except she couldn't claim any because technically she was still married to a very high earner. The Government would not care that she'd sooner starve in a cardboard box than accept a penny from her estranged husband. Find someplace somewhere where they were desperate enough for a doctor they wouldn't be too concerned about her lack of professional membership? Or find a job doing something anything else although who would want to employ a doctor who'd been disgraced for violence. She was going to be unemployable.

She wanted Dylan, needed him to hold her and offer the love and protection that had once been unstintingly hers but she'd lost that. He didn't care about her plight only about the effect on the department. She'd killed all the love he once felt for her by her own actions and now she would have to face this alone. If she was struck off – she could always kill herself she decided calmly. There'd be nothing left for her and it wasn't as if there was anyone who'd give a damn. It was the one choice she'd have left.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she sat in the dark wondering how she'd been reduced to this; when she'd left Medical School less than 3 years ago she'd had such a bright future ahead of her, now here she was 26, separated, but still in love with her husband, and at risk of being struck off.

She pressed the wedding ring she still liked to wear when she was alone briefly to her lips. It was little enough but it was all she had left of the husband she'd loved and lost. Still loved with quiet determination even though she knew the hope of reconciliation was all but gone. She couldn't blame him; she was the one who'd betrayed their marriage. Small wonder he couldn't forgive or forget. She'd learned to bear it; you could learn to bear almost anything. She'd grown accustomed to the loneliness and the dull ache every time she thought about him, which since she'd been in Holby was about as often as she breathed.

The irony of it all was that she had never even looked at anyone else since and he was busy moving on and beginning a relationship with one of their colleagues. A relationship it was half killing her to watch and watch it she must because she had to work with them and anyway they were being so very civilized about it all. They were still friends and what a hollow empty sounding word that was when she wanted so much more. She hated being 'civilised' and she hated being 'friends'.

Tonight she decided she wasn't even going to try and be brave, she was going to wallow in her misery and self pity in peace. So she got up poured herself a large glass of whiskey and then stared down into her drink wondering how much more alcohol it would take to numb her completely. She told herself the spirit was to help her sleep but mostly she wanted the blessed oblivion it would bring. She desperately wanted eight hours dream free sleep - she couldn't remember the last time that had happened. The whiskey was the colour of his eyes. She'd always loved his eyes they were so soft and it seemed as if she could look into their dark depths forever. Pushing Dylan's eyes out of her mind, she took a generous mouthful and the spirit burnt through her warming her body even if her heart was still a solid icy lump that nothing could ever thaw.

She was halfway down the second large tumbler when the doorbell rang. She ignored it; she wasn't expecting anyone and she didn't feel like talking to anyone this evening. She wasn't fit company for anyone either, she was wearing her oldest PJ's, her hair was unwashed and she knew her crying jag would be blatantly obvious. The doorbell rang again more loudly - no doubt it was one of her concerned colleagues and they wouldn't go away until she let them in. The unseen visitor began beating a tattoo on the door with his fists. She'd have to let whoever it was in before the neighbours called the police.

"I know you're in there Sam. Open the door. Samantha let me in." Dylan was clearly not in one of his more patient moods and he definitely wouldn't go away until she let him in. Resentfully she dragged herself to her feet pulling the ring off and concealing it in her dressing gown pocket quickly, he was the last person she wanted to know she still wore it,

"I'm coming" she called as she hurried down the hallway. She opened the door then stood back to let him pass her. "You'd better come in you'll wake the neighbours."

"You look like hell," he told her bluntly.

"Thanks," she retorted knowing that he was right but not wanting to hear it all the same. "You always did know how to pay a compliment."

Dylan looked at his wife anxiously, she looked awful her eyes were red and swollen and those parts of her face which were not red and blotchy were greyish green. She looked exhausted and he thought she'd lost weight since that morning even though it couldn't be possible but she definitely seemed smaller somehow. As he walked past her into the dark sitting room he caught the familiar scent of Johnny Walker.

"You've been drinking!" he said accusingly

"So what if I have?" she said resentfully.

"I know you've had a lousy day, but that won't make it go away," he replied slightly more gently. He of all people knew it was impossible to drown your sorrows and the last thing he wanted was to see his fragile wife slide down the same treacherous path that he had. "I'll get you a coffee."

"I don't want a coffee," she snapped.

"I didn't ask if you wanted one, you need one," he said insistently.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I don't suppose that this is a social call."

"Not exactly no," he agreed.

"Well what then?" she demanded.

Dylan considered briefly how best to tell her then decided he may as well just come straight out with it. "There was a message on the answer phone when I got home asking me to phone a Dr Russell at Wansbeck Hospital."

"Wansbeck!" Sam gave him a puzzled look "That's in Northumberland isn't it? Have you been applying for jobs up there?"

"Hardly. I phoned him – it was his personal mobile and it turns out it was about Mollie." Dylan explained rapidly.

"Mollie," she echoed "Your sister Mollie?"

"Of course my sister, how many Mollies do you think I know?" he asked her tersely.

"I've no idea," she retorted. "you could no hundreds for all I know."

"Before we sidetrack anymore," Dylan took a deep breath and carried on "Dr Russell told me that Mollie's dying Sam. She's dying and she wants me, wants us to go up there."

Sam looked at him totally bewildered "Dying- how can she be. Was there an accident?"

She was reeling and vaguely wondering if she'd drunk more than she thought she had. Mollie was older than Dylan but not much. She hadn't seen her in years but she wasn't the fragile sort at all. She'd never been ill either as far as she could remember. She tried to think back to the last occasion when she'd seen Mollie Keogh and found she wasn't sure. Mollie had come to their wedding and then Dylan and his sister had argued she didn't know why and as far as she knew there had been little or no contact since.

"Russell wasn't very clear on the phone; he said he'd explain when we got there." Dylan explained.

"You are going to go aren't you?" Sam asked him

Her husband seemed remarkably calm for someone who had just announced that his only sibling was dying. Of course that was his way even if his world had been falling round his ears – and for all she knew it could be. The self-possessed Dr Keogh would matter of factly look at the cold hard facts.

"Of course I am. She wanted you to go too," he said

"Me? Why me? She barely knows me." Sam asked

"I don't know why but she said she wanted both of us to go. That's why I'm here. You will come won't you? Please Sam." Dylan implored her.

She didn't hesitate. Dylan never asked her to do anything. She had no idea why Mollie had asked for her but if he wanted her to go with him there was no question about it she'd go. "Of course I'll come. Make us both a coffee while I get dressed."

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><p><em>Thank you for reading this. Reviews are as always very welcome.<em>


	2. Stranded

_Thank you so much to all the lovely people who keep on reading and reviewing, eventually it keeps me writing. Real life has kept interrupting this week with things I simply must deal with, hence the long gap between updates. I hope you enjoy this part. _

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><p><strong>2. Stranded<strong>

Sam hurried into her bedroom to change. Knowing Dylan's aged and draughty car of old and remembering she'd heard on the radio that there was snow further north she made a quick decision to go for warmth and comfort rather than smartness and layered up in boots, thick socks, tracksuit, hoodie and fleece. It was hardly an attractive look but it was practical for driving all night and it wasn't as if the company she was keeping appreciated glamour anyway.

She stared at herself in the mirror and cursed her ill fated decision to drink rather than wash her hair, she was a total state and her hair was lank and it wouldn't take a very observant person to notice that a hair wash was long overdue. She'd just have to plait it and hope for the best. She wondered what she could do about her red eyes and swollen nose. She did possess some make up but as she was less than expert in its application she doubted she'd have any success concealing the ravages her earlier tears had caused and anyway he'd already seen what a mess she looked. So it was probably a pointless exercise.

She could hear Dylan crashing about in her kitchen presumably producing coffee. At least she had proper coffee she wasn't sure his nerves and therefore hers could have taken it if he'd been reduced to instant coffee.

"Make sure you pack enough for a couple of days" Dylan called loudly enough to inform next door and downstairs of their plans.

"And there was me thinking I'd get it all in my handbag," she said sarcastically.

She grabbed a holdall and shoved in several changes of clothes and her wash things. Thinking about the predicted snowfall in the North she added extra socks and jumpers, spare gloves and her dressing gown. Finally she picked up two lightweight fleece blankets and her travelling pillow and stuffed them on the top of the now bulging bag. If they were stranded in the car overnight, a distinct possibility if you combined snow and Dylan's ancient vehicle; she had no intention of dying from exposure.

"That was quick" he remarked when she was in the kitchen barely 10 minutes later. "You look better,"

It was amazing she reflected what changing your clothes, washing your face, brushing your teeth and tidying your hair could do. With luck the mouthwash had removed the lingering scent of Johnny Walker and Dylan would forget that he'd caught her drinking alone or at least not drag it up again. It was not a discussion she wanted to have with him now or ever.

"Doesn't take long to put a few things in a bag," she said dismissively. "Radio said there was snow north of Sheffield is there a snow shovel in your boot."

"Of course and wellies, grit, de-icer and hypothermia blankets"! He said smugly "Have you got a flask we could take some coffee with us."

She rummaged in a cupboard wondering why Dylan was always so bloody organised. At least she had a flask she might not own much but that was the kind of thing an outdoor type of girl like her did own.

"Here you are," she proffered the flask.

Rummaging in her rather empty cupboards, she added some snack packets of dried fruit, chocolate and bananas to a carrier bag. If they were stuck on the road somewhere, sustenance might stop a murder being committed. Dylan was appallingly bad tempered when he was hungry. She hadn't been shopping for ages but a bit more digging around produced 2 bags of crisps, some Kendal mint cake, a packet of crackers and one of ginger nuts, a few elderly grapes and some babybel cheese. Almost a picnic!

"What are you doing?" he asked clearly puzzled.

"Packing a few snacks. We might get stuck on the road and you're impossible when you're hungry." She said calmly.

"If that's the best you can manage we'll have to stop somewhere," he said ungratefully "When did you last go shopping?"

"Two weeks ago, maybe three," she replied vaguely. Supermarket trips were never her favourite thing to do.

"When did you last eat?" Dylan asked her suspiciously.

She considered when had she last eaten? "I had a Danish on my way to work this morning." She told him.

"And when was your last proper meal?" he continued in that dangerously calm tone of voice.

"What constitutes a proper meal?" she enquired hoping to distract him from the truthful answer which he wasn't going to like.

"You know protein, carbohydrate, fat, vitamins, and minerals all together on a plate." He said slowly and clearly rather as if talking to an imbecile.

She thought before replying, wondering how best to diffuse the outburst that might follow her response. "I don't really cook you know that. I had soup last night and a ham sandwich yesterday lunchtime."

Dylan made a rude snorting noise. He never missed meals. She'd never really been fussed about shopping or cooking and almost always went for the easiest option which when she was stressed or upset was all too often a chocolate bar or nothing.

"We'll stop somewhere. Last thing I need is you fainting along the way," he retorted in disgust

"I never faint." She told him irritably.

"Always a first time," he said.

She glared at him crossly, she was a trained army medic damn it. She could go for days with virtually no food if she had to. It was him who needed regular refuelling and just assumed that everyone else should too.

"Drink your coffee, it will get cold." She reminded him wondering whether she should just pour her own over his irritating head and be done with it.

She slurped at her own and had to suppress a cry of pain it was hot and she'd burned her mouth but she was damned if she was going to let him know that. The hot drink and the caffeine revived her a bit and she decided that she could easily travel all night; after all she'd often worked for 24 hours or more at a stretch when things were really crazy in Afghanistan

We'd better get a move on it's a nearly six hour drive without snow," Dylan remarked finishing his own coffee. "We won't be up there until the early hours as it is."

"Will you be all right to do the driving after a shift," Sam asked him tentatively "would we be better to sleep for a few hours and leave at 3 or 4 to arrive first thing? You could kip on the sofa or I could. "

"I'll have to be all right won't I since you've rendered yourself incapable of doing half the driving, he retorted and she wished she hadn't mentioned it because he was harping on about that disastrous drink again.

"I'm sorry but it's not as if I knew you'd want me to drive today." Sam apologised wondering why she felt she had to. "I might be all right to drive in a few hours."

"And you might not." Dylan's response was implacable "and you know as well as I do might isn't good enough. You're in enough trouble already without drink driving too."

Sam bit back the furious riposte that sprang to her lips. She would never ever drive a car if she was incapable and he knew it. How could she possibly have known Dylan would want her help or that he'd be counting on her to drive? Drinking alone might not be the wisest course of action but it wasn't a crime. Obviously she would have stayed sober had she had any inkling at all that she might be needed to drive, hell she probably wouldn't have had a drink if she'd known she'd have a visitor. Just because he had a drink problem there was no need to assume that she did too. She could stop in fact she couldn't remember the last time she'd had reason to open the Whiskey bottle. She rather thought it was before Holby. No she had had one good big shot after the ED burned down just to calm herself down but that was at least two months ago.

"Let's just get a move on Grumpy," she hoped the nearest she'd ever had to a pet name for him would improve his mood but knew it was doomed to failure almost before the words left her mouth.

"Good God woman do you think you're going to the Antarctic he asked as she shrugged into a large padded down jacket and put an enormous scarf cum shawl over the top.

"Have you mended the door and window seals on your car yet," she asked as if talking to a small child.

"No, the garage wanted to charge me a perfectly ridiculous amount. I'll do it myself when I've got time," he explained

"Or sorted out the heating?" she continued in the same patient tone.

"Not yet," he said.

"Well than as I've no plans to get pneumonia or hypothermia I'm wearing plenty of clothes." She told him checking she had gloves in her pocket and picking up her hat and wellies.

They headed downstairs for Dylan's decrepit Land Rover which Sam knew from sad experience was one of the draughtiest methods of transport known to human kind. It might have been all right for transporting sheep on a Welsh hill farm but as conveyance for people it fell far short of the mark. She'd not actually set foot in it for well over a year and it had not improved with keeping she decided looking ruefully at the large patches of rust and the debris in the front passenger well. It had never been carpeted and now the rubber mats in the foot wells appeared to have vanished leaving nothing to insulate her feet from the elements. There were several more interesting tears in the upholstery and the dashboard had a crack in it. She wondered anew how the car ever made it through its MOT but she was sure it had. Dylan had his faults but he wouldn't drive the car if it wasn't roadworthy.

Poor Dervla who had clearly been banished to the chilly rear of the car leapt up at their approach her tail wagging wildly. Sam wondered why Dylan had left her in the car instead of bringing her into the flat. It wasn't like him and the poor dog hated being left by herself in the car. She walked over to greet her and the dog pushed her cold wet nose into Sam's neck the moment she opened the door.

"Hello darling," Sam automatically patted the dogs head and rubbed her soft silky ears "I've not seen you for such a long time."

The bright doggy eyes were shining and Sam flattered herself that the enthusiasm was for her. She couldn't help being pleased by the affectionate greeting. It was nice to be wanted even if the one living thing who wanted you was a slightly dopey dog.

"Get a move on. It's eight already and we haven't got all night." Dylan's irritation was all too clear.

"OK," Sam rolled her eyes at the dog "Sorry Dervla but Grumpy wants us to leave now."

She removed one empty sandwich packet, two chocolate wrappers and four coffee cups from the passenger seat and checked that there were no wet coffee stains on the seat before sitting on it then arranged her bags around her feet for extra insulation. Dervla had obligingly curled up on an old quilt behind her seat obviously understanding that if Sam was back in the car she would not be riding in the front. Sam lent behind her and tucked the dog up in an elderly blanket as if she was a baby, she didn't want her to get cold and the heating was useless. Dervla submitted willingly enough to the extra fuss she'd always liked being cosseted. Dylan might be an indulgent owner but it was Sam who had really pandered to their pet.

Dylan was so impatient to be off he barely waited for Sam to put on her seatbelt before roaring off into the night. She found herself devoutly hoping she wouldn't need to stop and use a loo before he was ready to take a break because like all men he seemed to see stopping at the motorway services as some sort of insult to his pride rather than a simple necessity.

For the first part of the journey, the battered old car ate up the miles, for all its aesthetic and structural defects it was actually relatively mechanically sound and did a steady 90mph all the way up the M5. They travelled more or less in silence. Dylan drove like someone possessed his hands held the steering wheel in a death grip and his face was taut. He never once took his eyes off the road to look at her or Dervla. She was glad conditions were good because she wasn't at all sure he should be driving but it was equally clear that right now she couldn't take over much as she might like to.

Sitting quietly in the passenger seat Sam cursed the momentary weakness that had led her to decide that a nice Scotch was the way forward and would make her feel better. If she hadn't had that damned drink she could help him now but she had drunk the alcohol so there was nothing she could do except sit beside him and hope he could feel the unspoken support. It wasn't as if she had any words there was nothing she could do or say that would make this any better. He hadn't said anything more than the bare facts but she knew her husband and she knew he cared desperately that his only sister was dying.

She wondered what was wrong with Mollie? How could she be dying and why had Dylan not been told she was ill before now. Surely it was all some terrible mistake and they'd arrive in Northumberland to find that it was some other Mollie Keogh. She didn't think she'd mind the wasted journey then it would be worth it. She thought back to what she could remember of Mollie Keogh, she was Dylan's older sister so she must be 36 maybe even 37 – too young to die anyway. The last time she'd seen her had been at their wedding where she'd upset Dylan by turning up with her long blonde hair in dreadlocks and wearing a long silver and turquoise dress in some sort of muslin with silver sandals and a long floaty shawl with bells on. It was rather chilly attire for a December wedding and not Sam's kind of thing but it had been harmless enough. She'd been so happy and so in love that day she wouldn't have cared if the guests had shown up in bin bags.

Mollie hadn't looked fragile, she was built like Dylan so rather on the sturdy side and she couldn't ever recall Dylan saying his sister was ill. Well physically ill anyway. She'd heard him question her sanity more than once but Sam had always had a suspicion Mollie's greatest offence had simply been to refuse to conform and to dare to hold different opinions to her brother.

Sam risked a quick sideways glance at Dylan, he was white faced with a grim set expression and greatly daring she risked reaching out to rest her hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze hoping it said all the things she couldn't begin to put into words. He relaxed slightly but still didn't say anything.

She leant back in her seat and stared unseeingly out of the window lost in her own thoughts. She'd put her own nerve-racking difficulty out of her mind for now. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment and Mollie's predicament was far more immediate and would have to be addressed first. It didn't seem that there was anything she could do for Mollie the best she could hope for was to be able to help Dylan while he dealt with this crisis. Even if the only help she could provide was silent sympathy and support.

Sam still couldn't understand why Mollie had wanted her to go too. She could definitely count the number of times they'd met on one hand and presumably she knew that her brother and his wife had separated. Maybe Mollie was more perceptive than Dylan had ever given her credit for and she knew Dylan would do his utmost to grant her last wish and she wanted her brother to have someone who cared with him. Except that Mollie could not possibly know that Sam still cared.

Sam persuaded him to take a break somewhere north of Birmingham only by insisting that she needed to stop. He had grumbled but agreed and they had a hasty meal. Dylan actually made quite a good meal consuming two courses and three coffees stolidly. Stress and upset had never appeared to affect his appetite in the slightest – she'd always wondered if that was a man thing very few soldiers lost their appetite however appalling the situation. Sam was surprised to find that she was hungry after all, and managed to dispose of a large plate of bangers and mash with onion gravy followed by a large piece of sticky toffee pudding. Equally unsurprisingly she spent the next fifty miles feeling more than a little nauseous as the dilapidated car wobbled and shook its way north east.

The predicted snow hit them at the edge of the Peak district. The conditions grew worse the further North they went, Sam had been chattering away about inconsequential things even though she knew it would annoy him purely because the irritation would keep Dylan awake and feeding him squares of chocolate but now they sat in silence because it was taking all his concentration to keep going and she didn't want to distract him. Dylan was tired and tense his eyes fixed unswervingly on the road ahead, visibility was dropping and the snow fell in a dizzying swirl all around them. The road was covered in a thick layer of snow with only two tyre tracks showing the road ahead. They slowed to a crawl.

"You Ok." she asked tentatively

"Just tired, can't see far enough ahead. I don't want to drive in these conditions. Do you mind if we stop at the next services and see if it eases off a bit?" he replied.

"Of course not you're the one who's driving." Sam said at once secretly relieved he'd decided to stop. She found the roads absolutely terrifying and there was absolutely no way she'd have been capable of driving in the current blizzard. She had been convinced that either they'd slide off the road or one of the huge lorries still heading north would skid on the ice plough into the back of them and annihilate them for at least the last hour.

The next services were another twenty miles and by the time they got there she was stiff with cold and fear and almost fell out of the car. Dylan automatically grabbed her arm to steady her and kept hold of it as they stumbled and slid across the car park. The services were safe brightly lit and warm and that was all that mattered to her. She slumped into an armchair at the coffee concession and let Dylan get her whatever beverage he liked, she didn't care so long as it was hot. The coffee was execrable and the cake dry but she didn't care they were inside out of the elements and off that ghastly road.

An hour later it was clear that the weather was not going to ease off and reluctantly they decided that they'd have to make a move as they still had a good 170 miles or so to go.

Once they got outside however it was obvious that the weather was even worse. Sam viewed the car park with the buried mounds of snow that were once parked cars in horror. Surely Dylan wasn't proposing to carry on. She tried to muster a decent argument that he'd listen to.

"Dylan," she began tentatively "You can't drive in this. It's madness. We'll have to sleep in the car for a bit."

"Too cold to sleep in the car, we'd freeze." he replied. "How do you feel about going across to the Travel Lodge and seeing if we can get a room? We can go on in the morning."

"Fine by me," she agreed relieved.

She hadn't thought he'd give in with so little argument. Perhaps underneath that pig headed stubbornness he had retained a modicum of common sense. He didn't actually have a death wish and must be aware that they'd be no use to Mollie if they killed themselves en route. He was probably tired too and the weather had at least given him the option of giving in gracefully. Realistically unless she was very close to death, the hospital would not want them arriving to see Mollie much before 8 the following day anyway. It was much more sensible to rest and wait for the weather to improve.

They rescued a cold and disgruntled Dervla from the car and headed across the car park to the Travelodge. Predictably it was heaving but much to Sam's relief they were able to get a room and persuade the distinctly disapproving receptionist to allow Dervla to stay but only because Dylan suggested he would have her charged with animal cruelty if she made him leave the dog in the car on a night when it was -15.

"I'm sorry there's only the one room left," Dylan told Sam "Do you mind?"

"It's 2am, I'm cold, I'm tired as long as it's a warm room with a horizontal surface for me to pass out on I don't care." She replied wearily. "I've slept in far worse places. It's not as if we haven't shared a room and a bed before."

She was sure he'd think she was referring to the conditions she'd slept in Afghanistan but actually she wasn't. In the last disastrous months of their marriage they'd been accustomed to sleeping in the same bed but as far apart as possible on the extreme edges of the bed. That had probably been the lowest point in their relationship, she thought sadly, tonight couldn't be worse than that.

The room was tiny and probably only used in emergencies. The bed could just about be described as a double but it was definitely only just the 4'6" that merited that term but it had clean sheets the room was heated and there was a bathroom. It would do for what was left of the night.

Dervla was convinced to curl up on a blanket beside the radiator but she gazed at them both balefully from moist sad doggy eyes. She clearly felt her place was on the bed with them and not sleeping on the floor. Sam found herself wondering if in her absence Dylan had given way and allowed the dog on the bed. She wouldn't have put it past him. It was only the implacable firmness of her resolve that had kept the dog from sleeping on their bed.

"Which side do you want?" Dylan asked her.

"Doesn't matter you choose," she responded dully. She wished he'd be less considerate and she wasn't sure why except that it wasn't like him and it unnerved her.

She hadn't the energy to shower and wash her hair and settled for removing most of her outer clothes and pulling an outsize t-shirt over the top to sleep in. Dylan was already in bed with the covers up to his chin by the time she left the bathroom a disgruntled Dervla sulking in her corner. She clambered into the other side of the bed stretched out and promptly kicked him.

"Sorry," she apologised at once.

Clearly she'd got more used to sleeping alone than she'd thought. Certainly she had noticed that she'd taken to sleeping diagonally across the bed in the last few months. She switched off the light, turned onto her side and lay motionless with her back to him. It was just like old times she thought without nostalgia for those miserable months, her on the far left of the bed and Dylan on the far right sharing a bed without touching or speaking. Dylan fell asleep almost at once but although she was exhausted but try as she might sleep just would not come. She was fretting about the GMC case and anxious about Mollie but most of all she was heartbreakingly aware all over again that lying in bed beside someone you still loved but could not communicate with was the loneliest place on earth to be.

She was almost overwhelmed by a sudden longing to turn over, wrap her arms around her husband hold him close and force away the fear that was threatening to swamp her but she'd lost the right to do that long ago. Tears trickled noiselessly down her cheeks burying her face in her pillow she stopped trying to suppress the silent sobs shaking her body. She'd learned to cry quietly and unobtrusively in Afghanistan. It wasn't the done thing to show your feelings and weep in public but when it all got too much she had shed the tears she dare not let fall during the day at night when no one would know she wasn't sleeping.

She was deep in a storm of soundless tears when Dylan suddenly reached out and pulled her to him. She was so startled she almost stopped breathing in shock. He didn't say anything at all just gathered her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest, she could hear the reassuring thump of his hart under her ear and he was stroking her hair soothingly. Despite her astonishment Sam relaxed into his embrace. She didn't dare say anything for fear of breaking the spell that held them but it occurred to them that neither of them had ever been very good at talking or expressing their feelings and maybe Dylan needed the comfort of the close contact as much as she did. He'd had a lousy day and probably needed a hug too. They'd always been far better at non verbal communication and for now he'd said all she needed him to.

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed this, if you did please feed my fragile ego and let me know. Thanks.<em>


	3. Asking Too Much

_Thank you to all the wonderful people who have reviewed this and provided me with a much needed ego boost. I am very grateful and so pleased that you enjoyed this. I hope that you enjoy this part too. Please note the two Northumberland hospitals mntioned are real but they are used as names only. I picked them for their convenient locations because it suited the plot and absolutely nothing written about them bears any resemblance to the real places and their staff. They are just names chosen from faithful google._

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><p><strong>3. Asking Too Much<strong>

Sam woke with a start to discover it was light outside and she was still curled comfortably against Dylan, who was snoring lightly. He'd spent the whole time they were together maintaining that he did not and never had snored but she knew better. It wasn't hugely offensive more of a gentle snuffling than the loud snorting some men allegedly made. She could remember working night shifts on some wards that sounded like as if a herd of hippos had taken up residence.

She'd have preferred to stay comfortably in the nice warm bed held securely in the circle of his arm but knew she should wake him up. They really should get back on their way as soon as possible but she didn't having the heart to rouse him yet because he really needed to sleep. He'd been utterly worn out the previous night with that horrendous news on top of all the stress and emotion. Maybe if she woke him with coffee... the decision was made when she realised Dervla was scratching at the door because she wanted to go out.

"Shh Dervla darling, you'll wake up Grumpy," she murmured. "Give me a minute, I'll put some clothes on and take you out."

She eased herself reluctantly out of the cosy bed and the refuge of her husband's arms then hastily pulled on tracksuit bottoms, boots and her coat before taking the impatient dog outside. It was like a winter wonderland outside. Everything was covered in a carpet of white and the sun shone making the snow sparkle. It was the kind of scene she'd fantasised about when in the dry dusty scorching hell that was Helmand. The dog scampered madly about in the snow, rolling in the dry powdery flakes and racing around a group of children barking excitedly. Part of Sam wished she was young enough to join the happy snow bound children playing with snowballs and building a snowman.

Instead she called the reluctant dog back to her side, collected two coffees from the restaurant and went back into the hotel to quietly rouse her still dead to the world husband.

"Dylan, wake up. You need to get going," she shook him very gently wishing she didn't have to do it.

"What time is it," he muttered grumpily

"Just after eight," she answered softly. Dylan didn't do mornings and loud noises irritated him more than normal when he first woke up.

"Why didn't you wake me before" he asked sitting bolt upright.

"Because you needed the sleep," she said. "Drink your coffee; while I use the bathroom. I want a quick shower before we leave."

She was feeling grubby because she hadn't washed yesterday night and her hair was in even more need of a wash than it had been the previous day. She was not facing an unknown hospital and professional colleagues looking less than professional. Although how professional she could look when all she'd packed was tracksuits and a pair of jeans she didn't know. Sam felt much more able to cope with whatever the day might throw at them after a very hot shower and a hair wash and she'd a nasty feeling the coming day might be about to produce a whole heap of drama and complications.

They had a quick bacon sandwich and another coffee than the three of them were back on the road and heading towards Ashington. The gritting lorries had been out and the motorways were clear. Dylan was making much better time than he had the previous night although he stuck to sixty miles an hour to allow himself time to stop if he hit a patch of black ice. Sam was mostly silent she knew he really wasn't in the mood for talking so she mostly just thought about what they would find when they arrived.

Women under forty didn't usually die unless they had some sort of violent accident and if that was what had happened she'd probably have died quite rapidly, certainly before they could reach her from ten West Country. A stroke perhaps, she was far too young for a heart attack but it wasn't impossible. There were nasty hereditary genetic diseases but Dylan would have known if it was one of those. Perhaps it was MS, Lupus, ort Motor Neurone Disease or even one of the real nasties like Churg Strauss. She wondered if Mollie had known something was wrong but had chosen not to tell Dylan then changed her mind when she realised that her own death was imminent. She'd seen that happen lots of times, people who thought they'd never forgive and would hold a grudge until their last breath frequently changed their minds and wanted to reconcile with friends and relatives they'd fallen out with years before. She wondered why Dylan and his sister had argued, she knew they'd been very close growing up but they'd grown apart once he'd gone to medical school.

"How old is Mollie now?" she asked tentatively.

"Thirty-seven," Dylan said abruptly. "She's just over two years older than me."

"She's only eleven years older than me then," Sam replied not knowing what else she could say it was much too young to die. "Christ I hope I've got more than eleven years left. I'm sorry I was thinking aloud." She shuddered, what a crass stupid thing to have said.

"So do I." Dylan gave her that brief half smile. She wondered if he hoped she had more than eleven years left or that he did or both. "Sam, Mollie doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?" she asked wondering what he was talking about.

"That we've separated." He said "I didn't tell her at the time and I'd rather you didn't now. There doesn't seem to be any point."

"If that's the way you want it." Sam agreed. She'd do whatever it took to keep him and his sister happy at the moment and she'd deal with the consequences to herself later when it was all over and she could wallow in self pity and lick her wounds in peace.

"It is. Thank you." Dylan replied as abruptly as was his wont.

They lapsed into silence again but it was the old comfortable silence not the horrendous ones they'd experienced of late where the words neither of them dared to say just seemed to hang unspoken in the air. They still hadn't talked about last night Sam thought suddenly and the chances were they never would. The most important things that passed between them had never been said in words. They'd both desperately needed the others comfort and it made her feel immeasurably happier to know that when it had really mattered Dylan had been there for her after all. It didn't matter that he'd not said a word. He'd known she needed him and he'd held her and that was what counted.

About halfway Dylan stopped for another coffee break and to let Dervla could stretch her legs. She'd been incredibly patient considering the number of hours she'd spent cooped up in the back of the car but to a certain extent Dervla was in doggy heaven because her two favourite people were in the car with her and every so often Sam would reach back to stroke her. Dervla might not be able to speak but she'd made it plain that she'd missed her. Sam had never considered that their separation might distress the dog but she realised guiltily that it had. When they were back in Holby she was going to override all Dylan's objections and insist that while she would never take his dog away from him when they were in the same place she would take her out for a long walk at least twice a week. She and Dervla both deserved that much and if he didn't like it he could do the other thing.

Sam offered to take over the driving for the last leg but Dylan refused her offer pointing out that he was more experienced and confident than she was and she'd always hated driving in snow anyway. She hadn't pushed it he was right and she didn't want to drive only to make it easier for him. She hadn't driven in over a year and she didn't particularly want her first attempt to be in a battered old Landrover with a tricky gear box in atrocious conditions but she'd have done it if he'd wanted her to.

They completed the rest of the distance through Yorkshire, Durham, Tyne and Wear and Northumberland in less time than it had taken them to make the torturous journey from Birmingham to the service station they'd spent the night at somewhere in Derbyshire and arrived in Ashington by midday. They went straight to the hospital which turned out to be a large modern district general hospital, quite similar to Holby in many ways.

The woman at reception had obviously been warned of their impending arrival and directed them to Mr. Russell's office which was confusingly situated in the maternity wing. Dylan looked deeply puzzled at this, but it was clear he wasn't going to be enlightened by the receptionist. Sam gave his hand a gentle squeeze and searched for the maternity wing on the map of the hospital. Predictably it was at the other end of the hospital and by the time they arrived Mr. Russell was waiting for them outside his office, the receptionist must have telephoned him to warn him they were on their way. That in itself was ominous and Sam wondered exactly what they were about to be told and if Mollie was still alive.

"Dr. Keogh? Do come in. I'm so sorry we aren't meeting under better circumstances. I am so very sorry about your sister. And is this Mrs. Keogh?" Mr Russell greeted them at the entrance to his office.

"I'm Sam Keogh," she said quickly deciding now was not the time to get into the thorny question of whether she was Dr Keogh, Major Nicholls or Dr Nicholls. It really didn't matter right now. "How is my sister in law?"

"She's very poorly I'm afraid. I'm Donald Russell, lead consultant obstetrician here. Tea or coffee? My secretary has it all ready." He indicated a tray on his desk neatly set with china cups, teapot and cafetiere. There were even expensive looking biscuits laid out on a plate with a doily.

Sam looked at the tray and then caught sight of the large new box of tissues and knew instantly what they were about to hear wasn't going to be good. It was never good when the tissues and the coffee were prepared in advance. Of course it might be coincidence that they tissues were there and the coffee a professional courtesy, Dylan was a fellow consultant after all but she doubted it. Taking so much trouble meant that wither there had been some sort of almighty cock up or the news was very bad indeed: Possibly both.

"No thank you," Dylan waved away the coffee which was in itself out of character. "Please just tell me what's going on."

"Miss Keogh. Mollie was transferred here as emergency from Alnwick Infirmary yesterday afternoon. She'd been living in some sort of alternative community just outside the town and she'd collapsed there; one of her fellow activists brought her in. Apparently they'd been trying to persuade her to seek help for some weeks because she'd been complaining of severe pain for some time but it was only yesterday that she found the pain so unbearable that she agreed to seek treatment. It appears she knew she was pregnant but had chosen not to see a doctor." He sounded sorrowful as he undoubtedly was retelling this wholly avoidable tragedy.

"Mollie's pregnant?" Dylan repeated unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Didn't you know?" Dr Russell queried.

"No. Mollie and I don't speak very often," Dylan said evasively. "We had words about her lifestyle choices some years ago. She wouldn't have told me she was pregnant because I'd have told her to look after herself, move out of that damned commune away from those drug addled fools and into a nice warm civilised flat."

"I see," Dr Russell said as if he did indeed see "We scanned your sister at once to try and establish whatever it was that was causing the pain. Initially I was concerned about a placental abruption or a uterine rupture but our investigations revealed that her condition was not pregnancy related."

"Please could you cut to the chase and tell me why my sister is dying," Dylan said impatiently.

"She has extensive and widespread malignant tumours and I'm afraid that the disease is end stage," Mr Russell said abruptly "I am so very sorry."

Dylan gave a stifled gasp and then for once said nothing.

"Why didn't they pick it up at her antenatal appointments," Sam asked "Surely when she was scanned they'd have seen the tumours and investigated?"

"Miss Keogh refused to have any scans and it seems had not attended antenatal appointments. She was planning a home birth in the community. I am not sure if she intended to summon a midwife or not. I believe your sister didn't have a very high opinion of doctors." Dr Russell sounded as if he had been on the receiving end of one of Mollie's tirades about arrogant stupid doctors.

"No, she doesn't . . ." Dylan sounded almost whispered. "I suppose she tried to treat herself with herbs or some other hippy rubbish."

"I believe she'd visited a herbalist," Mr Russell said awkwardly.

"Bloody quacks, should be locked up." Dylan snapped.

Sam looked at him; he was clearly in shock if anyone was going to ask sensible pertinent questions it would have to be her. "Where is the primary tumour?" she asked

"We aren't sure." Dr Russell said even more awkwardly.

"You're not sure!" she said in disbelief

"She presented very late in pregnancy and the foetus obscured much of the field of vision but the initial ultrasound did show a large right sided renal tumour. So I immediately asked oncology to see her and an MRI showed there are multiple metastases to the liver, lungs and bones although it is now so far advanced it's difficult for us to be sure which was the primary tumour. It is inoperable and she's not well enough for chemotherapy or radiotherapy to be of any benefit. "

"How pregnant is Mollie?" Sam asked, wondering if they would carry out a termination to attempt to treat her.

"She was thirty-five weeks," Dr Russell said "We carried out a caesarean section yesterday in the hope of making her more comfortable and because her organs are beginning to fail so it was safer for the baby. We were not expecting her to survive the surgery to be honest."

"Oh," Sam was momentarily lost for words

"Once I'd delivered the baby, one of our general surgeons took over and debulked as much of the tumours as possible to relieve the pressure in her abdomen and relieve her pain but it's only a palliative measure. She's already in advanced renal and liver failure – it's amazing the baby wasn't stillborn and now her heart and lungs are deteriorating too."

"How long has she got?" she asked through dry lips.

"I'd say a few days at the most, more likely hours," Mr Russell said.

"I'd like to see my sister," it was the first thing Dylan had said since Sam had began interrogating the surgeon.

"Of course, I'll take you up myself. You'll know Dr Keogh that your sister looks very unwell indeed. You may find it distressing Mrs Keogh."

"Sam's a doctor too," Dylan told him "She knows what acute renal and liver failure looks like."

"I'm sorry. I'd no idea." Dr Russell apologised at once.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said and for once she meant it. Normally people assuming she was just Dylan's wife irritated the hell out of her but in the scheme of things it suddenly seemed very unimportant. Although you'd think he'd have guessed she was a medic from the questions she'd asked and the fact that she'd understood his answers.

Mollie was in a little single side ward off the palliative care ward. She looked dreadful and Sam was appalled by the change in her. She remembered a big energetic woman with lots of long straw coloured hair in dreadlocks. She'd always been pale but she'd had bright eyes and been full of life. The woman in the bed in front of her seemed to have shrunk and her hair had gone white and thin. She lay motionless propped on pillows and they were giving her oxygen to help with her very laboured breathing. Her skin was an unpleasant shade of yellow and when she got closer Sam noticed that even the whites of her eyes had gone yellow. She could not help noticing how puffy her feet and hands were too. It was painfully obvious that quite apart from the cancer Mollie was in multiple organ failure her body was quite literally shutting down. Mr Russell was right and Mollie was running out of time fast.

Sam swallowed down hard on the lump in her throat. She may not have known Mollie well but she'd liked what she'd seen. The last thing she'd have wanted was for this to happen to her. Life could be so very unfair. Poor Mollie and poor Dylan, actually worse than that what about that poor baby – it would be motherless before it was a week old. She hadn't even asked what its name was or even if it was a boy or a girl. Nor had Dylan, she suspected he hadn't given his new nephew or niece a thought yet and was probably barely aware of its existence. Poor mite she hoped whoever its father was he would be a decent one. Teh poor child would need someone to love and care for it.

"Mollie," Dylan sounded incredibly awkward.

She opened her eyes "You came then," she said weakly.

"Didn't have much choice when I was summoned like that did I." He replied although the usual acerbic note was absent from his voice.

"Fine thing when a girl has to die before her little brother will come and visit." Mollie responded in a very faint voice. "Did Sam come with you?"

"Of course I did," Sam took a step closer, wondering how much Mollie could see although as far as she knew her vision shouldn't be deteriorating, unless of course there were metastases on her brain too which wasn't impossible. "I was hardly going to let him come on his own. Who knows what he might get up to unsupervised?"

"Good, I need to ask you both something before I die." Mollie's voice was almost a whisper but there was a determined note in it and suddenly Sam saw a flash of the woman she had been.

"What?" Dylan asked "Spit it out,"

"You'd better both sit down." His sister said and there was a sudden faint smile on her lips "I'd hate for you to fall over and anyway I'm fed up of you looming over me lik one of Scrooge's disapproving spectres."

Despite the grimness of the situation Sam had to suppress a giggle although Dylan didn't crack a smile. Evidently deciding to humour his sister, he sat down in the easy chair close to the bed. Sam considered dragging another chair over, then decided to balance herself on the arm of Dylan's chair so as to be closer to them both. It was a trifle difficult to balance on the side of the chair and she ended up having to lean lightly against Dylan to avoid wobbling. She wondered what Mollie was going to ask them.

"Out with it then," Dylan said impatiently "what mess have you created that I'm going to have to sort out?"

At her next words, Sam almost fell off the arm of the chair. "There's nothing for you to sort out." Mollie objected feebly "I want you two to look after my baby for me."

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><p><em>I hope you have enjoyed this and if you did please let me know. I am a fragile soul and feedback is good for me.<em>

_H_


	4. Saying Goodbye

_Thank you to all the wonderful people who have reviewed and let me know that they are enjoying this. I do appreciate you taking the time to say what you think and it encourages me to write more frequently. Special thanks to the people and they know who they are who've let me bounce ideas off them. I am grateful for their help and support._

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><p><strong>Saying Goodbye<strong>

There was a sudden thick silence and the air seemed to thicken into treacle. Sam suddenly found it hard to catch her breath; Mollie wanted her and Dylan to look after her baby. Dylan was right – she must be crazy. Who in their right mind would think the pair of them were fit to have charge of a baby. Dylan still lived like a student and she spent half her life in warzones and was probably the least maternal woman you'd ever find. They weren't even together anymore. What did Mollie think they'd do take it for a night each. Then she remembered that Mollie didn't know that they'd been apart for almost a year.

"What about the baby's father?" Sam asked tentatively "Won't he want…"

Dylan made as if to say something and then clearly made an effort to bite back his words.

"What my little brother wants to say," Mollie remarked. "Is do I even know who my baby's father is? As it happens I do but he doesn't know, he's not going to know and he's not having anything to do with him. And I won't be telling you who he is either."

"I…I…I the thought never crossed my mind…" Dylan stammered.

Of course it had crossed his mind, Sam thought. She knew him well enough to be sure that was the first thing her prejudiced judgemental husband had thought. Embarrassingly though it was also the first thing she had thought. She hoped Mollie did not have as much insight into her thought processes as she had into her brother's.

"Of course it did. I know what you think of me and my choices Dylan, you've never bothered to hide your contempt." Mollie responded heatedly well as heatedly as a person who needed oxygen to breathe could.

"And you've never judged the choices I've made," he retorted "You despised me for being conventional enough to go to medical school said..."

This was getting awkward Sam thought desperately really really awkward. All the old prejudices were getting dug up and given a public airing and God knows now was not the time for anyone to go saying anything they might later regret.

"Please stop," she said without much hope "this isn't the time to start reviving every disagreement you've ever had."

"OK I admit it," Mollie acknowledged "I was wrong about you and Sam. You have lasted longer than five minutes although how she puts up with you I don't know."

Sam felt slightly sick, had Dylan and Mollie fallen out over her. That would explain why Dylan had refused point blank to tell her what they'd argued about. He'd said plenty about his sister being stubborn, pigheaded, judgemental and incorrect but nothing about the actual reason for the disagreement. Of course Mollie had been right they hadn't managed to last five minutes and that must have stung Dylan. She knew him well enough to know that he'd gone into their marriage believing it was forever as had she. He'd have hated admitting to anyone that he'd failed least of all his older sister. She wondered if they were pretending to still be together for Mollie's sake or for Dylan's pride. It didn't much matter why. She'd do it for him anyway – she owed him that much.

"Why did you pick on us?" Sam asked changing the subject "I wouldn't have said we were textbook parent material."

""Who is," Mollie replied "but you're family and I think you'll do better for him than anyone else will. I don't want him ending up in care."

Him, Sam thought the baby is a boy then, she wondered what he looked like, whether he'd be like Mollie and Dylan with bright blue eyes and thick fair hair or resemble his unknown father. Sam wondered if Mollie had any idea what she was asking of her – of them. Dylan had never expressed any interest in babies or having a family. If she'd been asked how he felt about children she'd have said he never wanted any of his own. She was fairly sure she didn't either. Considering how useless they both were at dealing with their own emotions they'd be sure to screw up any innocent child that came near them. Mollie hadn't even began to pick the best parents for her son. She hoped Dylan would break it to her gently that they just weren't the right people to do this for her.

"Family isn't always best, Mollie," Dylan said "Look at the mess ours made of it. Who's to say I'd do any better."

"Well you're not a drunk and you won't abandon him in boarding schools while you take up your dream job half way across the world. I know that much. Please Dylan. I'm so scared our mother will get her hands on him and I couldn't bear it. She did us enough damage." Mollie was growing increasingly breathless as she pleaded with him.

Sam moved towards her and adjusted the oxygen turning it up in the hope of increasing her SATs a bit. "You need to rest and not talk for a bit," she advised "get your breath back."

"How can I rest when I'm worried about my son? I can't die not knowing if he'll be safe and looked after," Mollie said anxiously.

Sam exchanged glances with Dylan. It was imperative that Mollie was kept happy and calm and it was becoming more and more clear to her there was only one thing they could do and only the one answer they could give but it was impossible completely impossible and she had no idea how they'd cope. It wasn't fair on the baby either; he didn't deserve to get caught up in the messy crossfire between the two of them.

"Mollie, Sam and I are far from perfect you know. Whatever picture you've conjured up in your head we're never going to be able to live up to it," Dylan told her.

"I don't want perfect," she gasped – her breathing becoming increasingly laboured. "Please just promise me you'll look after him. Keep him safe."

Sam exchanged an agonised glace with Dylan over Mollie's head. He looked ghastly. She knew that more than anything he wanted to grant his sister's last wish but not that. She was asking too much of them, far too much. She was asking more of Sam than even Dylan knew. Meeting his eyes she gave an almost imperceptible nod. They had no choice. Never really had.

"We'll do our best," Dylan said bluntly.

That was it, somehow between them they'd agreed to take on a newborn baby. Sam began to wish she'd stayed in Holby with her trusty bottle of Johnny Walker for company. That might have kept them both out of this mess. She and Dylan had certainly woven a web for themselves in practicing this particular deceit.

"Where's the baby?" Sam asked suddenly realising that there was no small fish tank like cot with a tiny occupant here.

"He's in SCBU they said it was a precaution." Mollie wheezed "You two should go and see him."

"Will you be all right" Sam asked she didn't actually want to see the baby but she'd welcome the chance to talk to Dylan and figure out what the hell they were going to do next out of Mollie's hearing.

"I was fine before you came, wasn't I and I'm not planning on going right this minute." Mollie panted.

"We ought to rescue poor Dervla too," Sam said "She's been shut in the car all this time poor dog."

"Bring her in," Mollie asked "I'd like to see Dervla again."

"Don't be daft," Dylan retorted at once "I can't bring her into a hospital they'll go spare."

"Not here they won't," Mollie grinned faintly "I'm dying you know and they do their best to humour my every whim. If I say I want to see Dervla I bet they let you bring her in."

"Would you like us to get them to bring the baby up to you?" Sam asked.

"Yes please," Mollie replied "I'd like to see him once more."

"What's his name? I can't keep calling him baby" Sam queried.

"He hasn't got one. You'd better pick something he's going to be yours." Mollie answered calmly.

"Haven't you got something in mind?" She asked choosing to ignore the second sentence."

"I'd planned to call him Jude, but he doesn't look like a Jude." Mollie told her "anyway he's not going to be a lost cause because you and Dylan are going to have him."

Sam had a horrible feeling that the name might be all too appropriate. Any child who had the misfortune to be in the care of her and Dylan might well be a lost cause it would certainly need all the help it could get.

"Why don't you see if you can think of something while we go and find him" Sam suggested.

She and Dylan left the room together and waited until they'd descended a flight of stairs before speaking neither of them wanting Mollie to hear their conversation.

"I'm sorry" Dylan said at once "I know I shouldn't have agreed but what else could I say."

"There was nothing else you could say," Sam agreed quietly "but what the hell are we going to do Dylan? We're not parent material. Never in a million years."

"You think I don't know that!" he sounded as appalled as she felt "but we're going to have to find some way of sorting it out."

"How can we sort it out Dylan? I don't know what to do with a baby and neither do you. There isn't room for a baby in our lives. There isn't even a we anymore" Sam knew she sounded almost hysterical but she was past caring.

"I don't know." He sounded despairing "Maybe we could get a nanny – one of those really good expensive ones that do everything."

"Even you can't afford a Norland nanny," Sam told him "They are reserved for Arab Princes and Russian Oil barons."

"How do you know?" he asked with interest.

"Someone I was at school with, screwed up all her exams and couldn't be a teacher. Her parents were well off and paid for her to train as a Norland Nanny. She earns about five times what I do looking after the youngest son of one of the Sultan of Brunei's relatives." Sam explained.

"Only the youngest son?" Dylan sounded intrigued.

"Of course – each of the children has their own nanny." Sam said as if it was obvious.

"Is there such a thing as an economy Nanny," Dylan queried

"How on earth would I know?" Sam replied "Have I ever needed to employ a nanny?"

"Well Mollie was right about one thing. My mother can't go anywhere near him." Dylan said firmly.

Sam had never met Dylan's mother but she had a feeling she was formidable. She knew she had brought her children up singlehandedly – well with the aid of nannies and boarding schools because Dylan's father had drunk himself to death by the time he was 11. She'd always been busy pursuing her academic career all over the world and Dylan and Mollie had been expected to fly out and join her wherever she was.

"Where is she now anyway?" she asked

"Stanford, making poor unfortunate law students lives a misery. On the plus side she's a damned long way from me." Dylan replied

"Should we perhaps tell her about Mollie?" Sam said hesitantly

"No," he almost snapped at her and she decided it would be wisest to let the difficult topic drop.

In any case they'd found the Special Care Baby Unit so they went in and introduced themselves. Baby Keogh was in an open cot and was clearly one of the biggest and healthiest babies in the room.

"Here you are, this is your nephew." The sister in charge beamed at them "He's just over five pounds and should do very well. We're not really worried about him; he's only here as precaution because his mother is so unwell but he's feeding well and producing lots of wet nappies. I understand that Miss Keogh wants the two of you to care for him when... well when she can't."

Sam nodded, totally lost for words by the unexpected turn of events. Never in a million years had she dreamt when she woke up that morning that by the afternoon she'd be standing looking at a new infant and contemplating being completely responsible for it. She suddenly felt quite dizzy and sat down hastily.

"Would you like to hold him Mrs Keogh?"

The Sister was beaming at her and once again Sam realised that there was only one acceptable answer. In any case the nurse was already leaning over the cot scooping up the baby and moving towards her. In one quick movement she deposited the baby in Sam's arms. For a second she thought she was going to drop him then instinct kicked in and she automatically closed her arms around the baby to prevent him falling and held him against her chest. She waited to feel something anything but all she wanted was to put him back in the cot and get rid of him. She wondered how soon she could decently put him down without the nurse wondering what on earth was going on.

She gazed at the baby dispassionately, he was very small with masses of soft fair hair and when he opened his eyes to look at her they were the same bright blue as his Uncles. She supposed he was quite a pretty baby as babies went it was just that she was totally indifferent to him. It felt just the same as when she picked up any of her infant patients. Tomorrow or the day after they'd probably hand him over to her and Dylan and send him home with them, then they'd be completely responsible for another person. Sam knew with certainty that neither of them was up to it.

"I'll just go and rescue Dervla from the car." Dylan said hastily "She'll need a walk and I'll grab us some sandwiches. I could do with some air"

"Coward!" Sam said without heat. She knew damn well he wanted out of that nursery before anyone suggested that he should hold his nephew. "I'll go with you. I could do with some air too."

She was tempted to tell him what she thought of him abandoning her in a room full of babies. She'd rather face the Taliban than be left here alone but it wouldn't help anyone if she and Dylan had a disagreement now it would just make a ghastly day infinitely worse. So she swallowed her wrath down with an effort.

"You promised Mollie you'd get them to take the baby to her." He reminded her with a smug smile.

She had hadn't she. Regretfully Sam watched him go then put the baby back in the cot with a sigh of relief. She arranged with the nursing staff to have the baby brought upstairs as soon as he'd been fed and hastily excused herself from giving him the bottle by saying that she really must get back to her sister-in-law who had been alone far too long. Leave it any longer and they'd get her changing nappies. She could change a nappy if she really had to learn. She'd learned on her peads rotation but she'd always made a point of not doing it unless there was absolutely nobody else to do it. She retraced her steps to Mollie's small side ward but paused just outside the door. She could hear voices Mollie clearly had a visitor.

"You don't have to worry about the baby," a well spoken female voice said, Sam decided it was Home Counties and public school educated "I'll take him back to the community and we'll bring him up communally."

"I've already decided who will look after him," Mollie replied "My brother and his wife are here and they have agreed to look after him for me."

"Your brother!" she shrieked sounding incredulous "I thought you said your brother was a DOCTOR!"

She said it as she might have said she thought Dylan was a paedophile, a murder, or even a psychopath Sam thought not sure if she was amused or incensed at this maligning of her husband and both their professions.

"He is," Mollie replied "and so is his wife actually."

"And that's what you want for your son?" the woman sounded outraged "A conventional upbringing with the petty bourgeoisie? After all you've said and everything you claimed to believe?"

"It is." Mollie was resolute "I want him to have a good life, a better life than I've had. The kind of life they can give him. He's going to have two parents, a house in the country even a pet dog. If he wants to go to university I know they'll make sure he can."

Sam felt like the biggest fraud in the world. Mollie had chosen them thinking they would make the ideal middle class parents but her faith in them was sadly misplaced. There was no house in the county anymore just a houseboat or a poky soulless rented flat and there might be two of them but they'd not lived under the same roof in over a year. On the other hand however useless she and Dylan might be they would definitely be better than this mysterious community if that woman was a fair representative of its members. Perhaps Dylan had been right to agree after all.

"Bloody hell Mollie, River was right when he said you always were one of them under the skin," the woman said in disgust "Was it all talk?"

"No I chose my life but my son didn't. I want him to make his choices too." She sounded very unwell and Sam decided that she'd better intervene before the conversation became anymore heated. Mollie was not well enough for any kind of confrontation. Backing quietly away she returned as loudly as possible taking care to open the door with a loud crash.

"Dylan's just gone to get Dervla" she announced loudly "and they are going to bring your son up here just as soon as he's had his bottle."

"Did you see him?" Mollie asked.

"I did." Sam said briefly.

"Isn't he gorgeous" Mollie swelled with pride.

"He is," Sam agreed wondering why it was one always felt obliged to politely lie and say that new babies were beautiful when in truth only a mother could ever think that a squashed red, wrinkled thing was pretty. Actually baby Keogh was better looking than most new babies because he was a c-section baby and had not been squashed but even so she'd seen more attractive kittens.

"Willow," Mollie said introducing her companion for all the world as if they were taking tea at the Ritz, "This is my sister-in-law Samantha Keogh. Sam this is Willow she lived at the community with me."

Sam politely extended her hand but the other woman didn't take it.

"Goodbye Mollie," Willow said icily "We will all be thinking of you in the clutches of all these DOCTORS!"

This time Sam had great difficulty not laughing at the emphasis on the word. Willow flounced out and Sam only just refrained from saying Good Riddance. However expensive that woman's education had been she'd clearly learned nothing.

She looked at Mollie with concern she'd plainly deteriorated since they'd left her. Her chest was rattling and her face was flushed. The doctor's part of Sam's brain told her that the combination of the morphine and cancer had weakened Mollie's immune and respiratory systems and she had contracted pneumonia, the culprit that appeared on so many death certificates of the terminally ill. There were worse ways to go it would be a gentle dignified passing, Mollie's body wasn't strong enough to fight off the infection so the end was plainly near. She hoped they'd bring the baby up and Dylan would return before the inevitable happened. Quickly she sent Dylan a text message simply saying "Mollie much worse. Come back now."

"I'm sorry," Mollie apologised breathlessly.

"What for?" Sam asked

"Willow, I wish I could say she's not always this rude but actually she is. Makes my little brother seem charming doesn't she?" Mollie said.

Sam gave in and laughed "Don't worry about it. I've heard far worse in the ED on Friday and Saturday nights. In fact I've probably heard worse from your brother."

"I expect you have." Mollie agreed.

"Can I ask you something," Sam said awkwardly "Why did you pick on Dylan and me to look after your son. I'd have thought an Army medic was everything you hate most."

"Last time I checked your job was to keep people alive not to finish them off." Mollie replied "You treat the Taliban and the locals too don't you?"

"Of course I'm a doctor I'm there to save people not judge them" Sam responded indignantly

"Well then. Now it's my turn why did you marry my brother?" Mollie asked

"Because I love him," she could answer that one without any hesitation at all.

There was no need for the past tense. For better or worse he was still the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing before she went to sleep and she couldn't see any likelihood of that changing. Hell she probably still wouldn't be over him when she was seventy and she wasn't even sure she wanted to be.

"You'd have to be to put up the grumpy bugger." His sister said cheerfully.

"H can be very sweet sometimes," Sam defended her husband instinctively thinking about the previous night when he'd just held her while she cried.

"I know. He loves you too you know." Mollie told her

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Haven't you noticed the way he watches you. His eyes follow you round the room, even when he was talking to me he was looking at you." she said it as if stating the obvious.

Sam hadn't noticed but she was sure if Dylan was watching her it was in an attempt to predict and pre-empt the net reckless thing she might be planning to do. Mollie was seeing what she wanted to see.

"Why did you and Dylan fight?" She asked changing the subject "he would never tell me what happened."

"We fought about him marrying you so of course he wouldn't tell you." Mollie explained "The first time I met you was at the wedding. I'd no idea you were so young. I said things about taking advantage and cradle snatching. I rather thing I said something about there being no fool like an old fool too. He took umbrage."

"I wasn't pushed into anything," Sam declared crossly "I married him because I wanted to. Everyone assumed I couldn't possibly know my own mind and poor Dylan got it from all sides: His friends, my friends, colleagues, you, your mother, the hospital management, the medical school. Everyone wanted to make us into something we weren't. We wanted to be together that was all there was to it."

There had been more to it than that Sam admitted but only to herself. They'd known that if they wanted to stay together the only thing to do to scotch the rumours that he was taking advantage and she was sleeping her way to the top was to legitimise what everyone else saw as a very irregular relationship. So they'd married quickly and quietly and said to hell with all their critics. Marriage hadn't seemed like a hardship to either of them at the time. She'd never dreamed it would all end in tears so soon."

"I was wrong I admit it, you're good for Grumpy." Mollie said.

"Who are you calling Grumpy?" Dylan erupted into the room with an over excited Dervla pulling on her lead. The minute he let go of her the dog bounded across the room and leapt at Sam.

"Gently" she reproved the eager mutt, the dog calmed down slightly at her rebuke

"Dervla, come here," Mollie called "I've not seen you for so long."

Dervla trotted over to Mollie serenely laying her head on the bed where Mollie could reach to fuss her. Their daft pet was surprisingly well behaved standing motionless so Mollie could stroke her silky muzzle and then lying quietly down in the corner to watch and wait with the rest of them.

It was a long afternoon. They bought the baby up but Mollie was too weak to hold him. In the end Sam laid him on the bed beside her so she could look at him and touch him but it clearly hurt her not to be able to hold her son. After a while she spoke but the words clearly came with an effort that was more physical than emotional. Mollie was slowly losing interest in everything. "You take him. He's yours now."

Sam picked the baby up again and sat with him in her arms mostly because she didn't know what else to do with him. She would hurt Mollie dreadfully if she put him back in the cot and ignored him as she longed to do and Dylan looked so forbidding she didn't dare hand his nephew over to him. Not yet anyway.

The medical staff left them alone there was nothing anyone could do now except relieve the pain and make it as easy as possible for Mollie. Suddenly Sam realised she couldn't she couldn't see her chest moving any more was she…had she gone without them noticing. Putting the baby hastily in the cot she moved closer to the bed in sudden alarm. She sighed with relief when she realised she was still breathing. It wasn't the first time that afternoon that Mollie's breathing had grown so shallow that she thought she had gone. The doses of morphine needed to control her pain were so strong that it was suppressing respiratory effort it couldn't be much longer now. Her body was shutting down, so much so that she had ceased to complain of the pain, given up asking for water. Most of the time she just lay there with her eyes closed waiting for death and when it came it would be as a friend not the deadly enemy she had fought so hard.

They sat and watched as the afternoon wore on and Mollie's breathing grew more and more shallow and the gaps between breaths further and further apart. They held one of her hands each and waited.

"Dylan," her voice was so faint it was barely perceptible.

"Yes Mol," he answered

"I'm sorry," she said

"Nothing to be sorry for." His response was nearly inaudible.

"I shouldn't have said what I said," she apologised.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Dylan assured her.

"I know we haven't always seen eye to eye but you're the only little brother I've got and I want you to be happy." His sister told him.

"What am I going to do without my big sister to fight with," he asked.

"You'll be fine, you're a big boy now and you've got Sam to fight with. Look after her and my baby. Promise." Mollie said firmly.

"I promise!" he replied.

"Thank you." Mollie closed her eyes and didn't speak again.

It seemed like hours that they sat there waiting for her to stop struggling.

"This is it isn't it." Dylan said in an undertone.

"I think so." Sam spoke equally quietly well aware that hearing was the last sense to go and not wanting to distress Mollie if she had any awareness of the world around her left.

"I don't think I can bear to watch this much longer." Dylan murmured helplessly.

Sam reached across the bed and took his free hand in hers giving it a gentle squeeze.

They didn't have to wait much longer, just as the winter sun slid below the horizon Mollie gave a little sigh took one last faint gasp and then there was nothing. Everyone in the room appeared to hold their breath. Sam was aware of the sudden silence and knew that Dylan's sister had gone and the sleeping baby in the corner was motherless before he was a day old.

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><p><em>I hope you have enjoyed this. If you did please spare a moment to let me know and feed my desperate ego. <em>

_Next time - Sam goes baby shopping with Dylan's credit card and Dylan finds out how much baby things cost..._


	5. In at the Deep End

_Once again thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 4 and everyone who has made this one of their favourite stories. As always I am very flattered whenever anyone takes the time to tell me they've enjoyed my efforts. This has turned into an epic part and I hope the length doesn't put you off. I hope you enjoy it._

_BTW - Mintlaw, Northumberland does not exist outside a series of fictional books written in th 1950's. I borrowed Mintlaw from there. It is neither real nor is it mine._

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><p>5. In at the deep end<p>

If anyone had asked Sam later how they'd passed the rest of that day she didn't think she could have told them, it all blurred into a vague formless haze in her mind. She knew that baby Keogh had been returned to the safety of SCBU and that someone had come along to formally certify the death but there had been a mass of paperwork and formalities for Dylan to deal with and she'd felt like a spare part. She'd stuck beside him offering the silent support she wasn't sure he needed and wishing there was something she could do to help him. He didn't really need her though; never had not the way she needed him.

They'd gone out for a curry at some point but despite the heat of the spices it had all tasted rather like cardboard in her mouth. Mr Russell's secretary had booked them into a hotel and it was rather more salubrious than the Travelodge they'd stayed in the previous night. In other circumstances it might even have been a pleasant stay Sam thought looking at the more generous double bed, large bathroom, huge television and two comfortable chairs. Presumably she'd been influenced by the knowledge that Dylan was a consultant and could afford to pay the no doubt steep room rate. Knowing they were married she'd made the obvious assumption but quite frankly if Dylan didn't care Sam didn't either. She'd rather not be alone in an anonymous hotel room tonight.

"Dylan," she said hesitantly.

"Uhuh" he lifted his eyes from the journal he wasn't reading.

"Would you rather I got a train home tomorrow?" she offered half hoping he'd say yes, half hoping he'd want her to stay.

"Why would I want you to do that?" he demanded.

"I don't seem to be much use here more in the way," she replied.

"Don't be daft woman; of course I want you here. I wouldn't have brought you up here otherwise and I can't do all this on my own," he told her grumpily.

Sam felt that actually Dylan had been making a good job of doing it all on his own but she didn't say anything. If he wanted her to stay then she'd stay. Of course she would just as she would do her best to help him with his nephew although the logistics of how they were going to do it still baffled her completely – she had to hope that he had some really good ideas because she didn't have a clue.

It was still early, not much more than 24 hours ago she'd been huddled on her sofa weeping, because she was alone and scared now here she was in a hotel room with her estranged husband more than 300 miles away contemplating joint custody of a day old infant. What a difference a day could make.

She tried to make sense of it all but she couldn't and deciding she was actually so tired she couldn't think straight anymore and whether it was early not she needed bed Sam reached for her nightshirt, tugged her hoodie and t-shirt over her head in one movement, then made to pull the nightshirt over her head but was stopped by Dylan's voice.

"Sam what the hell is that on your back?" he asked.

"Eczema"–she said wearily "You're a doctor you should know."

"I know its eczema," he said tersely "but why have you let it get out of control like that." He crossed the room and was pushing her hair out of the way to look at the large patch of eczema which stretched from her shoulder blades almost to her waist. "Are there any more patches"

"A couple," she muttered.

"I've never seen you looking this bad," he continued "Have you been neglecting it? More to the point why have you been ignoring it? You know as well as I do you shouldn't let eczema get out of control."

"It's been worse," she replied.

"I've never seen it worse than this," he retorted.

"You weren't there. Will you stop nagging at me," Sam said crossly "it's my skin isn't it."

He looked at her for a moment and then pulled his boots back on and grabbed his coat. "Back in a minute" he said and then left the room.

She looked after him completely puzzled. What was he doing storming off in a huff? She was the one who walked out when she was annoyed not him. She knew the eczema didn't look good it didn't feel too good either but somehow she just couldn't be bothered to apply emollients twice a day the way she knew she should. It was all just too much effort. It had flared again because she was stressed and upset, she'd had patches on and off ever since she'd come to Holby and encountered her husband again. It had worsened after the ED fire when he'd rejected her in public and it had got worse when she'd heard about Keith Parr's complaint. The emotional drama of today probably hadn't helped either but it wasn't the worst it had ever been.

Dylan hadn't seen her after their marriage had disintegrated. Then she'd been smothered in eczema with very little undamaged skin to be seen anywhere. It had got so bad they'd almost flown her home from Afghanistan. She'd actually been afraid it was severe enough that they would discharge her from the Army but fortunately it hadn't come to that. She'd self medicated with oral steroids "borrowed" from the drug cupboard and it had more or less cleared up. The door opened with a crash and Dylan came in with a carrier bag.

"Where have you been?" she demanded crossly and then thought she sounded like a nagging wife and regretted it.

"Remembered there was a late night pharmacy over the road so I went and got these," he opened the bag and proffered a huge bottle of emollient and a large tube of steroid cream. "You could probably do with a stronger steroid but it's the best they would sell me over the counter."

"Oh," she didn't have much to say to that although she supposed he was no going to expect her to go to the trouble of applying it all when really all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

"Lie down and I'll put it on your back, you'll never reach to do it properly," he instructed her.

"Whatever" She gave in at that point. Dylan was clearly determined that the eczema was going to be sorted out and she didn't have the energy to argue just flopped face down on the bed to let him get on with it. Anyway it was rather sweet of him to go back out into the cold and snow to get the treatment for her, even if she hadn't been that interested in getting it. Anyway she knew he was right she had to do something about it or it would get worse. She did know of cases where infected eczema had led to sepsis and death. It was unlikely but she didn't really plan on dying just yet.

He was careful but it was never going to be a comfortable process, it was a large area of damaged skin and touching it hurt. Fairly swiftly all she was concentrating on was not making a fuss or rather concealing from Dylan just how much discomfort he was causing her in applying that nasty sticky stuff. She was grateful that it would be going all over the hotel's sheets and not hers because Dylan being a man and not used to eczema had not purchased the water based emollient he had gone for an oil based one which would leave nasty greasy marks on everything it came into contact with. Thankfully the sheets and towels would not be her problem. He touched a particularly sore spot and she couldn't help wincing or disguise the sudden hiss as she drew her breath in sharply.

"I'm sorry," Dylan murmured and she could tell he hated hurting her "but this has got to be sorted out."

"I know," she admitted

"How long have you been ignoring it," Dylan asked and she could hear the impatience in his voice.

"Not long," she lied there was no way she was telling him it had been there since before Christmas, He'd go spare.

"Why are you so bad at looking after yourself?" he said with a sigh.

"I'm not," she insisted.

"What do you call not eating properly, ignoring your eczema, taking insane risks oh and not securing your flat properly. If I'd wanted to I could have broken in, in a couple of minutes?" her husband enquired.

"And I was trained by the Army; by the time you'd got through the door I'd have you flat on your face with your hands behind your back." She retorted at once stung by his poor opinion of her.

"Sam I don't want to fight with you. I just want you to look after yourself a bit better," he replied. "I'd prefer it if you stayed in one piece."

"Hmph," she grumbled, not wanting to dignify his remark with a response.

"All done," Dylan went to wash his hands.

Sam tugged her nightshirt back down, wearily climbed into the big bed and settled back on the soft pillows. The mattress was considerably better quality than the previous night's too. She might even manage a decent night's sleep tonight – it had been near to 3 before she'd slept yesterday or today rather and she'd been awake again by 7:30. She hoped she'd sleep well, it would probably be the last uninterrupted sleep she had in a while. From tomorrow Baby Keogh was their responsibility and unless they were very lucky undisturbed nights were going to become a distant dream.

By the time Dylan joined her she was in a drowsy huddle in the middle of the bed.

"Cold" she muttered sleepily when he moved the quilt and created a cold draught.

"Shove over dozy, you're taking up all the bed." Dylan said.

"I'm comfy here," Sam replied groggily and didn't budge an inch.

He clambered into the space she'd left him and then seeing she'd no intention of moving squeezed into the available space and wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled up against him and drowsed off almost instantly.

She slept straight through until she heard Dylan crashing around the room, and opened her eyes to find the room was full of light and it was very definitely morning.

"You sleep like the dead, woman." Dylan told her "Dervla whined to be let out. I asked room service to bring coffee and you just kept right on snoring."

"I do not snore," she objected at once.

"Of course you don't" he agreed with the half smile she loved "but I got you going didn't I."

"You..." she said in disgust.

"Come on get up, we've loads to do and" a sudden look of dread came over his face "they only agreed to keep the baby in the hospital until 3 then we have to pick him up."

"What are we going to do?" she asked wide awake at once.

"Christ knows. I've no idea what you do with a new baby after you've done its ten minute checks," he said.

"Well, you're one up on me, I've not done any obstetrics on purpose." Sam told him. "The last baby I delivered was in Med School and I'd like it to stay that way."

"You get stuck with the occasional mad woman who thinks a home delivery is the way forward if you're a country GP," Dylan reminded her. "Or sometimes they just don't go to hospital quickly enough."

"Bonkers." Sam declared with feeling "What's wrong with a nice safe hospital?"

"Either way, they always scared the hell out of me but I always went home and left it all to the midwife once the creature was there." Dylan said with a faint shudder.

Sam shook slightly, she was actually terrified of the moment when they were going to be solely in charge of Dylan's nephew – well technically at any rate he was her nephew too.

"What do we need to do today," she said in a determined effort to change the subject.

"I need to collect the death certificate, locate Mollie's will and arrange the funeral. I thought you could do the baby shopping." He said as if he was allocating tasks in the ED.

"But I don't know what to buy," she objected in horror.

"And you think I do." He replied logically "I bet you have more idea than I do."

She subsided for a lack of anything helpful to add. Anyway if that was what Dylan wanted or needed her to do that was what she would do. While he was collecting the death certificate she went back to SCBU and asked them if they had a list of things babies needed which of course they did and then Sam got one of the nurses to mark all the things they would really need and to put a star by the things they must buy now and could not wait until they were back in Holby. It still looked a ridiculously long list; it appeared babies needed more possessions than she did! She wondered how they were going to get all this stuff and a baby into Dylan's car to go home. It wasn't designed as a family vehicle and she wasn't sure how the logistics were going to work.

They went into Newcastle because apparently Mollie had used a Newcastle solicitor and Dylan needed to see them. While he spoke to the solicitor Sam went to John Lewis to see what she could do about that list. The baby department was frankly terrifying and it was all she could do not to turn tail and run. If a very nice shop assistant who looked old enough to be her grandmother hadn't come to her aid she probably would have done. By the time they'd finished she was bemusedly realising that she had spent well over £500 on Dylan's credit card and he probably wasn't going to be happy. She didn't even seem to have bought very much: A crib, a car seat, a pram, sheets, blankets, nappies, bottles, and more clothes than she thought any new baby could possibly need but the assistant had assured her that she needed to assume five changes of clothes a day. She'd added a small fluffy teddy bear herself because surely every child needed a bear to keep them safe from things that went bump in the night. Actually most adults did too. Her own bear was sometimes a great comfort when she was lonely or frightened. He listened but never ever judged. Everyone needed that.

She arranged for the collection of bags and boxes to be picked up later with the car and went down to womenswear because it had suddenly occurred to her there was no way that she could attend a funeral in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie or even jeans and a shirt which was the most formal wear she had with her. Much as she hated clothes shopping she was at least on more familiar ground there. She knew what she wanted and she knew what size she wanted it in which was a decent head start. She found exactly what she wanted relatively quickly; a very simply cut plain black merino dress albeit with a price tag that made her wince but it would do for interviews afterwards and the dreaded upcoming hearing at the GMC. Her mouth went dry at the thought of that and she grabbed the dress and matching jacket and put it on her own credit card before she had time to change her mind.

She was waiting outside for Dylan when he arrived pondering the best way to confess the damage she'd done to his credit card. He had told her to spend what it took but she had an idea that his idea of what it took and what it had actually cost would differ by several hundred pounds. She'd naively thought she could purchase everything on the list for £200, his estmate had probably been less than that. The cost of a packet of nappies had appalled her.

He had to hoot three times then lean out of the window and shout at her because she didn't recognise him. The battered old Landrover had been replaced with a new Range Rover– well new to Dylan anyway. The paint was shiny and clean and it looked as unlike a vehicle belonging to Dylan as it was possible to get. She got in beside him.

"Where did you get this from?" she asked in surprise

"I bought it, can't put the baby in the old car - no room for a baby seat." he explained.

"You bought a new car just like that!" Sam was incredulous. She'd spent years trying to coax him to buy a less well ventilated car and now he'd gone and bought one without warning.

"Didn't have much choice did I?" Dylan sounded mutinous "I thought you'd be pleased. You complained about the old one often enough."

"I'm surprised that's all," Sam squeezed his arm "I'm sorry I know you didn't want to."

"Think I'm going to be doing lots of things I don't want to from now on," he said morosely.

There was nothing she could really say to that. Poor Dylan, his life had been tipped upside down and he hated change. Actually the new car was nice. The upholstery was clean and soft, the heating worked, there was carpet on the floor, it had power steering and it looked as though it had air conditioning for the approximately 6 days a year when it was necessary in the UK. She could get used to the car, travelling in thiws was going to be positively luxurious by comparison. It didn't look as if poor Dervla agreed though, she looked very sad indeed. She'd been allowed to preserve her old quilt but she was confined behind a dog guard in the boot and clearly resented it. Even Dervla's life was about to change beyond recognition.

"The baby things were quite expensive," she said tentatively.

"How expensive is expensive?" he asked

"£658.98" she said quickly hoping if she said the numbers fast enough he wouldn't notice them.

"How much! Did you buy the most expensive of everything?" he said in horror.

"No. I only bought what the SCBU staff nurse said was essential and budget versions at that." Sam said defensively "Did you know a pushchair can cost £800!"

"No." He sounded mulish.

"Nor did I until today," she replied.

"What's it made of solid gold?" he enquired.

"Hardly, it looked as though it would fall apart if the wind blew." she told him.

"What did you buy then?" Dylan asked her.

"A basket for sleeping in, a car seat, pram, bedding, clothes and nappies. Nappies are hideously expensive," she explained.

"I'm sure I read somewhere cloth ones are more economical." He said thoughtfully.

"Are you going to wash them," she said challengingly "because I know I'm not."

"Perhaps not," he backed down hastily.

"How did you get on?" Sam asked him changing the subject hastily.

"As I expected pretty much, Mollie wasn't stupid she'd guessed she was dying. She rewrote her will and left a letter with the solicitor a week ago. He wanted to take her to hospital then and there and/ or phone me but she wasn't having any of it."

"It wouldn't have changed anything if he had?" Sam said gently

"She must have known for months something was really wrong. Well her letter says she did but she'd googled her symptoms guessed what was wrong and knew they'd deliver the baby to treat her. She wanted to give him the best chance."

"I don't think I could do that," Sam said with a shiver "deliberately do nothing when I was in that state knowing I'd die. She was very brave."

"Or very stupid" Dylan said resignedly "and she's left us to deal with the chaos she's created."

"What is there to deal with – aside from the obvious," Sam asked

"The will leaves everything to me in trust for the baby and names us his guardians, which apparently ties everything up neatly. Not that there's much. She didn't leave enough to buy his things put it that way. Invested it will probably buy a round of drinks for his 18th birthday. Her personal possessions are for me to distribute as I think best with a couple of stipulations apart from one thing she'd given to the solicitor – we're going to need to pick them up from the community. I rather think I'll be redistributing most of her stuff to Oxfam or the bin."

"Dylan!" Sam was appalled at his callousness.

"Mollie didn't set much store by things, she owns less than you do and that's saying something. I doubt she had much more than clothes and possibly a few paperbacks." Dylan explained.

"When's the funeral or didn't you get that far?" She asked.

"Tomorrow. She wanted to be buried with our grandparents in Mintlaw and the vicar was willing to do it at once," He said calmly.

"Mintlaw?" Sam was sure she'd never heard of Mintlaw.

"It's a tiny village much further north virtually on the border." Dylan told her. "Mother's parents lived there. The best holidays Mollie and I had were spent with them. I think that's why she wanted to be buried there. Our Dad and Megan are there too."

"Megan?" she questioned. Who was Megan?

"Our baby sister," he said bleakly.

"You've never told me you had a baby sister." Sam exclaimed in surprise.

"She died when I was seven," Dylan said "Mollie was nine. She was four. Our parents' never got over it. Dad started drinking, Our Mother threw herself into her work and Mollie and I were sent to boarding school."

"Why did she die?" Sam was still stunned by the news that there had been a third Keogh sibling and neither Dylan or Mollie had ever mentioned her.

"Meningitis and septicaemia – she was dead in a couple of hours. Dad blamed himself for not realising what was wrong and drank. Mother blamed him too. It wasn't very pretty. Dad had drunk himself to death by the time I was eleven." Dylan's voice was completely flat as he repeated the story as if it was something that had happened to somebody else.

Sam couldn't think of anything at all to say. All this time and he'd never told her about his little sister. She wished there was something she could do or say that would make it better or at least they weren't in the car so she could hug him but that would probably be for her and not for him. Dylan didn't even like holding hands in public. He'd probably told her while they were in the car precisely so she couldn't do anything. They'd often had their most important discussions in the car because they didn't have to look at each other while they were talking.

They collected the baby stuff from John Lewis and stowed it in the boot before heading back to the hospital. There was a prolonged fight with the recaltriant baby seat before Dylan finally had it firmly fixed on one of the rear seats. Sam offered helpful advice which was not well received and her suggestion that he should try reading the instruction manual was even less well received. In the end she left him to it and retreated to a safe distance with the woebegone Dervla apologising profusely for the indignity of the dog guard and tried to explain to the miserable dog why their whole lives were going to change. Dervla did not seem convinced. That made three of them Sam thought wondering how they were going to deal with this.

Baby Keogh was collected promptly at 3pm and the staff waved them off with a small booklet on baby care that was apparently given to all new parents in the antenatal classes. It turned out to be very patronising and Sam hoped the rather larger tome she'd chosen in John Lewis would be more informative in the absence of her paediatrics textbook. There had been many books in John Lewis most of which appeared to have been written by mad people. In the end she'd chosen the book she had because it was written by a doctor and did not have the words 'contented' or 'bible' in the title.

Although they could both manage the practicalities of mixing and giving a bottle or changing a nappy, an evening at home with baby Keogh proved to be more exhausting than a double shift in Resus or 24 hours on call in Afghanistan so they retired to bed the moment the infant closed his eyes and went to sleep. Neither of them dared to move or breath but they were still rudely awakened at 10:40, 11:26, 12:31, 1:15 and 1:45. By 3:30 they had paced for miles and Sam fully expected that they had worn a path in the carpet, changed two nappies, offered three bottles, consulted The Fools Guide to Babies and received 5 complaints from fellow residents about the noise. Don't you think if I could stop him crying I would Sam had said in exasperation to the last person to complain but Baby Keogh continued to produce a high pitched cry that went straight through her head. Poor Dervla was curled up in the corner with her paws over her ears.

By morning they both had a new understanding of precisely why it was that parents might shake their beloved offspring and they were pale, bleary eyed and desperate. They had a funeral to go to and more than three hundred miles to drive home all with a three day old baby in tow. It was going to be hellish Sam decided – hellish. She must have done something really awful to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment and people actively chose to endure this.

She dressed rapidly wondering if the black dress had been quite such a good choice after all. Baby sick stains would be really obvious and it was dry clean only. She realised she'd made another error when she discovered she couldn't do the zip up herself and she had to ask Dylan for help. It was ok if there was somebody there but once she was back on her own in the flat it was going to be a problem. Dylan was for once more than willing to help and even more surprisingly managed to get the zip done up without catching her hair in it. That had to be a first.

"You look nice. I like the dress." Dylan nuzzled the back of her neck as he spoke.

"Thank you," she was stunned he almost never commented on what she wore, unless he hated it and it had been ages since he'd been that affectionate even before they'd separated he'd been distant for months.

"These are for you." He produced a battered jeweller's box and took a string of pearls out.

"Dylan?" she cried in amazement. He never gave her presents especially not on the spur of the moment.

"I got them from the solicitors yesterday," he said. "They were my grandmother's and then they were Mollie's. Mollie said they were for you now."

"I can't..." she stammered

"Of course you can...who else will wear them now" he put them carefully round her neck and fastened the ornate clasp.

She had to admit they were beautiful and a glance in the mirror told they did look nice with the dress but she felt as if she had them under false pretences. Mollie had thought she and Dylan were happily married when she'd made her will. Still she'd wear them for now and give them back to Dylan later she couldn't possibly keep them but if she took them off now she'd hurt him and she'd done that all too often already. It was a good choice of dress she thought smugly it fitted perfectly and the high neck and knee length hinted at her slender curves without revealing anything at all. She was glad she'd spent the extra money on new shoes and the appropriate underwear even if it had given her credit card a bashing. It was actually vaguely similar in cut if not colour to her wedding dress and that had been as flattering as... No she wasn't going to think about that – not now.

"He'll probably try to pull them off," she said indicating the baby to change the subject that Dylan didn't even know had crossed her mind.

As Sod's law would have it he was sleeping peacefully now that his guardians could not. He continued to sleep peacefully all morning. He slept through the drive north to Mintlaw, through Sam lifting him out of his seat and carrying him into the church for the brief funeral service and interment of his mother. It was sad Sam thought that the only mourners at Mollie's funeral were her brother, his wife and her own tiny son. The baby even slept through the even briefer visit to the community. Sam waited in the car while Dylan went in and emerged minutes later with a suitcase and a battered cardboard box.

He appeared to like car travel; he had roused briefly for a nappy change and bottle but drowsed off again as soon as Dylan started the engine. The almost complete silence broken only by the babies' sleepy snuffles was blissful. Sam had hoped that this would happen, the thought of a five or six hour drive accompanied by that high pitched wail had not been a pleasant prospect.

"He's resting his lungs," Dylan said dourly "in preparation for keeping us both awake all through tonight as well."

"I hope not," Sam replied "I don't think I can bear another night like last night."

"I suspect we might have to," Dylan told her "He's obviously nocturnal."

By common consent they drove back to Holby non-stop wanting to make the most of the silence and get home as quickly as possible. Sam fed Dylan various unhealthy snacks as they drove to keep him going and he got them back to his boat in five and a half hours. Sam found it hard to believe it was only 72 hours since they had left Holby because nothing was ever going to be the same again.

They stumbled wearily onto Dylan's boat; nothing had been said about dropping her at her flat so Sam assumed that Dylan wanted her to stay at least for tonight. If he'd wanted to get rid of her he'd have said something he was nothing if not direct.

"Takeaway then bed?" Dylan suggested.

She nodded wanting nothing more than to sink into a hot bubble bath and then collapse into a nice soft bed. She was absolutely wiped but first she needed to deal with baby Keogh. He was stirring but oddly enough for the moment he wasn't howling. He protested a little at having his nappy changed but the high pitched wail was absent and she was glad. He dispensed with a 10oz bottle while they waited for their pizza and then went back to sleep in his new crib on top of the chest of drawers in the bedroom.

"Maybe he was just hungry yesterday." Sam said hopefully.

"I swear he's just waiting until we fall asleep to begin exercising his lungs." Dylan replied eyeing the sleeping baby suspiciously.

"Well at least we know now if we want him to shut up we take him out for a drive," Sam said wearily "I can't eat anymore I just need to sleep. Please will you undo this." She indicated her zip.

"I've been waiting to do this all day." He stood behind her and drew the zip down excruciatingly slowly, simultaneously gently kissing the nape of her neck and pulling the pins out of her hair. "Are you really that tired?"

She was, but she turned to face him, read the message in his eyes and smiled slowly, sleep could wait for a little while; "maybe not so very tired."

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><p><em>As always if you enjoyed this - please be kind and let me know. <em>

_I rather think that in the next part baby Keogh might even acquire a name of his own. That's of course if either of his guardians can bring themselves to acknowledge that actually they are responsible for him now and he needs a name. Maybe someone will have to push them into it._


	6. Exhaustion

_I hope there are not too many errors in this (I did proof read it last night) but I promised Callie I'd post this before work and I am predictably already late... Thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed or PM'd about my last effort I do appreciate it. Hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>6. Exhaustion<strong>

Sam was tired enough in the week that followed. Dylan went back to work leaving her in charge of baby Keogh. It seemed logical that while she was suspended she would look after the baby but she wasn't coping. Every day by the time Dylan came home she was either pacing up and down the living room with a howling baby on her shoulder or the baby would be bawling in his cot and Sam would be lying on the sofa sobbing with exhaustion. The boat was if anything even more chaotic than when he'd lived there alone. Damp and dirty clothes were festooned from every horizontal surface, every item of crockery he possessed was stacked up beside the kitchen sink waiting to be washed up and the sitting room resembled a disaster area.

"How's your day been?" Dylan asked warily when he returned home from yet another shift which had overrun. Without Sam they were permanently overworked and behind but the Trust had refused to authorise locum cover and wouldn't contemplate allowing her to go back to work until after the GMC hearing.

"He won't stop crying. He's cried all day. He hates me." Sam sobbed.

Dylan handed her a mug of coffee and sat down beside her.

"It's not you Sam. He doesn't hate you. Babies do cry." Dylan tried to reassure her.

"I think he knows we don't want him and that's why he won't stop crying." Sam wept onto his shoulder.

"Don't be daft Sam. He's only just ten days old he doesn't know anything like that." Dylan said calmly.

"All the books," Sam replied firmly "say he does know. I've read them all."

"You've read too many bloody books." Dylan said crossly "We've got enough baby books to stock the whole county's libraries and they are all full of shite."

"What else am I supposed to do," Sam said desperately "You piss off to work and leave me holding the baby. I've got to learn how to cope with him somehow."

"Look," Dylan suggested "You go and have a lie down I'll take the brat out for a drive in the car see if we can't give you an hour's peace. I'll bring back fish and chips for dinner."

"But you've been working since 8," she protested "and you didn't get any sleep last night."

"Nor did you and I think being stuck with the screamer all day is worse," he said firmly. Dylan would do almost anything to avoid being left with the baby for a day.

Sam was too tired to argue, she was desperate to sleep but she knew that he was too. How did other people manage or did they all endure this hideous hell. The books said that they should be easing baby Keogh into a routine by now but despite her best attempts to institute one he wasn't having any of it. Dylan was trying he really was and she was giving him a really hard time she thought remorsefully. He'd had even less sleep than she had because at least she could snooze during the day when the baby was sleeping even if it was brief snatched twenty minutes he was still working full shifts and spending time on call.

When he'd taken the baby and a very reluctant Dervla out for a drive, Sam lay back on the sofa closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She desperately needed sleep; she couldn't remember the last time she'd had more than about an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep but now she had the opportunity the sleep wouldn't come. She couldn't shut down the anxious thoughts buzzing around her mind. All she wanted was for her life to go back to normal and it never could. She still hadn't slept when he returned forty-five minutes later with a now slumbering baby and a fragrant package of fish and chips.

They ate quickly; they always ate quickly now in the desperate hope of finishing their food before baby Keogh work up again. She waited until they'd both finished before beginning the inevitable difficult conversation.

"Dylan," she said quietly not wanting to disturb the baby. "I'm sorry,"

"What for?" he asked surprised.

"For being such a miserable cow, I don't mean to be so ungrateful I know you're doing your best," she replied quietly.

"But it's not good enough," he said.

"I didn't say that, it's not you." She objected at once "It's just I don't know how to do this. I know how to be a doctor but look after a baby. I haven't got a clue and I'm not even sure I want to. It wasn't meant to be like this."

"It wasn't was it," Dylan agreed. "Sam let's just go to bed while he's quiet. If the baby sleeps we can sleep."

Sam acquiesced with a nod they were both so chronically sleep deprived that both dreamed of a darkened quiet bedroom and eight hours solid undisturbed sleep. The baby never seemed to sleep for longer than about forty-five minutes before he was awake and yelling for attention again.

By the following afternoon Sam was at her wits end. Dylan was once again at work and she had been alone all day with a wailing baby and a pigsty of a boat. When she heard the knock at the door she wondered which of the neighbours was coming to complain about the noise. Leaving the squawking baby in his pram she went to answer the door wondering if the neighbours had contacted social services about the constantly crying baby. To her surprise it was Tess at the door, she didn't think Tess was one for social calls especially to Dylan they were hardly friends and she and Tess had had more than one run in at work.

"Tess," She said trying to conceal her confusion. "Come in."

She led her into the sitting room, inwardly squirming at the mess. Any minute now Tess would know that not only was she a doctor who had had a complaint made about her and been suspended she was also hopelessly undomesticated and incapable of looking after a baby.

"I got the impression," Tess said carefully "from all the things that Dylan has not been saying that you might appreciate a break."

"A break," Sam stammered.

"A break from looking after the baby," Tess clarified "As I understand it you've mostly been doing it all by yourself."

"You mean you'll look after him?" Sam said in disbelief.

"That's what I said isn't it." Tess said "You're tired. Why don't you go and have a nice hot bath and a lie down while I deal with this young man."

"I can't…" Sam said.

"Why not?" Tess asked.

"He'll cry he always does," she replied wearily.

"I'm sure I'll cope." Tess told her calmly "I've dealt with crying babies before. You go and have a nap. It will all seem better after some sleep.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure." Tess told her firmly.

"You're sure you don't mind." Sam said shakily.

She had to admit the thought of lying down with her head on a nice soft pillow knowing she wouldn't have to get up in twenty minutes when the baby next howled was very tempting. She could stretch out right across the king size bed and just let her aching head and sore limbs sink into the mattress. Bliss!

"Not at all, we'll have a nice afternoon," Tess said cheerfully. "I might take him out for a walk in his pram."

"But..." Sam objected.

"He'll be fine" Tess reassured her. "Be good for him to realise you aren't going to come running every time he opens his mouth."

Before she'd decided what was going on, Sam found herself organised into a steaming hot bath to which Tess had added a generous helping of expensive bath bubbles. It was strange having a bath after lunch when she hadn't finished an odd shift but it was nice. The hot scented water was soothing and she hadn't had a peaceful uninterrupted bath since they'd collected the baby from the hospital. Sam leant back and closed her eyes, her sore, tight muscles relaxed and she was feeling pleasantly drowsy. It was only when her chin slipped under the water and she got an unpleasant mouthful of bubbles, she spluttered wildly and hauled herself into a sitting position.

The last thing she wanted was to fall asleep in her bath and drown. Dying young wasn't in her plan she still had things to do not to mention the embarrassment factor of being found naked in the bath even if you were dead. She clambered out hastily and wrapped herself in the nice warm fluffy towel on the radiator and stumbled through to the bedroom. Sam gazed longingly at the bed, she was tempted to just collapse on its inviting form and pass out still wrapped in her towel. However she forced herself to take the time to dry off and pull the baggy T-shirt she used to sleep in over her head before she crawled into the bed and buried herself in the warm quilt. She was so worn out she fell asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

It was dark when Sam woke up; she was warm and contented and for the first time in a fortnight she wasn't feeling as tired as she did when she went to bed. She glanced at the clock it was after 7 she'd been asleep for almost 6 hours what had the baby been doing he was never quiet for that long aside from anything else he was still on four hour feeds. She sat up intending to go and rescue Tess from the miserable baby. She was stunned to see him lying in the basket at the foot of the bed sound asleep. While she watched he opened his eyes and gazed straight at her. Much to her surprise he didn't open his mouth and break into his usual wail.

Sam eased herself out of the nice warm bed and shivered she tugged on her dressing gown and picked the baby up. Then reached for one of his blankets, if she was cold he must be and wrapped him up in the soft fleecy blue fabric.

"That's better," she murmured to him. "We're all warm and cosy now aren't we? We'd better go and find Tess and let her know she's off the hook."

She strolled through to her sitting room and almost did a double take. The laundry which had been strewn everywhere was in a neatly ironed and folded pile. Crockery had been returned to the kitchen and the rubbish had clearly been put where it should be in the bin. Tess was a miracle worker. Tess herself was sitting in an armchair reading a novel.

"Did you do all this," Sam said incredulously

"Didn't take five minutes," the nurse said calmly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," Sam smiled at her "I might even be able to think again."

"Good, I forgot to ask you, what's his name?" Tess asked her. "I've been calling him baby all afternoon. Dylan has never once mentioned a name but then he doesn't talk much."

Sam went pink, "He er doesn't have one."

"He doesn't have a name," it was Tess' turn to sound incredulous "surely you haven't been calling him baby all this time."

"Dylan calls him brat or the screamer," Sam said. Even as she said she realised this was not the answer Tess had in mind. "I call him baby or nothing at all."

"You have to give the poor child a name." Tess said firmly. "You can't call him baby forever and anyway you're going to have to register him soon. He has to have a name."

"I'll talk to Dylan," Sam said meekly "She knew Tess was right and their nephew needed a name but they hadn't managed to find anything they agreed on and had simply stopped discussing it."

"Have you read all those books," Tess indicated the large pile of baby books Sam had amassed and several paediatric textbooks she and Dylan had already owned.

"Yes," Sam said defensively "I thought it might help."

"You can't learn how to look after a baby the way you can learn how to diagnose Sam." Tess sound highly amused "You're forgetting one really important factor. He can't read and he hadn't read the books."

"How do you learn then," Sam asked wearily

"Trial and error. He'll tell you what he wants but on the whole as long as he's fed and loved at his age he doesn't care about anything else." Tess sounded thoroughly amused.

"All the books say I should get him into a routine, but it isn't working." Sam wailed.

"That's just the latest fad," Tess remarked "Let him make his own routine, feed him when he's hungry, let him sleep when he's tired. You sleep when he's asleep and you'll manage. You'll do fine if you worry less about what the books say and more about what works for you and him. Make Dylan do his share too."

"Dylan," Sam retorted "doesn't touch him unless it's absolutely unavoidable. He's scared stiff of him."

"Well he'll have to learn not to be," Tess said calmly. "Go out somewhere when he's off and leave him to it."

"I couldn't do that to him," she said at once.

"Why not. It would do him good. I need to go now there's a service I want to go to at eight. Will you be all right." Tess asked.

"I'll be fine now." Sam smiled at her thinking she might be. She'd had a decent sleep and the baby was silent. She could do this at least for one evening. "Thank you Tess."

She wondered why the nursing sister had helped her out, she didn't have to and they'd never exactly been friendly. They'd clashed more than once in the ED. She must be pretty intuitive too to have worked out there was a problem from what Dylan had not said. Maybe it was all part of being a good Christian – she thought it was her duty or maybe she was just kind. Either way Sam was grateful.

She waited until Dylan had come home, eaten and put his feet up and she had bathed their nephew, fed him and put him to bed before she tackled him about a name for Baby Keogh. The baby was still wide awake so after his bath she'd brought him back into the sitting room for his bottle and snuggled up on the sofa with him. She had a feeling it wasn't going to be an easy conversation so it behoved her to get her husband into the best possible mood before broaching the subject. With anyone else she would have suggested a few drinks to soften them up but with Dylan this wasn't an option.

"Dylan, we've really got to give him a name?" Sam said as calmly as she could manage once she thought he was as relaxed as he was going to get on a work night and when they were both waiting for their nephew to wake up and begin exercising his lungs. "He's got to be registered by the time he's six weeks old and we can't do that without giving him a name."

"Will a name make him sleep at night?" he asked sourly

"Dylan!" she said in disgust "That's not helpful."

"Well what do you propose? Noisy?" he suggested.

"Noisy Keogh doesn't have the right sort of ring to it." Sam replied wondering if he was being deliberately obtuse. "He has to have a name we can't call him baby Keogh forever. Why not call him after your Dad?"

"Absolutely not" he replied firmly.

Sam wondered why he was so set against using his father's name, she thought it was only his mother he disliked but decided it would be better not to comment.

"Ok. What was your grandfather's name?" she asked hoping for a better response.

"Arthur and we are not calling him that. People might think we were copying our unesteemed Prime Minister. We don't want people thinking we're the kind of fools who believe in Camelot either."

"Maybe not! Did he have a middle name?" Sam said hopefully. Dylan had liked his grandfather surely there would be something he could agree too.

"David" he muttered.

"That's not so bad, everyone knows how to spell it and how to say it." Sam replied wondering if they were at last making progress. It was a bit like humouring a spoilt toddler and she was sick of it. She was sorry his sister was dead and she was sorry he had a baby he didn't want living with him but he was a big boy now and he was just going to have to grow up and deal with it. She was trying to make the best of it and she had less reason to than he did.

"It'll do I suppose." He shrugged "as long as people don't think we named him after Cameron we don't want anyone to think I admire him and his bloody NHS Reform Bill."

"Dylan no one whose opinion you care about will think that. Just do the unheard of and actually tell people it was your grandfather's name."

Even as she said it Sam wondered if there actually was anyone whose opinion she cared about and suppressed a sudden urge to shake him. He might not be pleased about the situation but it wouldn't hurt him to take an interest in his nephew. He was damned lucky she'd agreed to do this or he'd be coping with a baby all by himself, instead she was acting as an unpaid Nanny she must be mad.

Deciding to ignore her grumpy husband she concentrated on their nephew who oddly enough although still wide awake was not screaming. He was snuggled against her chewing his fist and gazing up at her with enormous blue eyes.

You've got a name now" She told him. "You're David Keogh."

After Tess' help somehow it got easier David still cried but Sam found she didn't mind quite as much. She also stopped trying to put him to bed at 6pm, discovering that actually he was wide awake until about 9 and wanted to be up and watching what was going on not put to bed. She couldn't say she adored him in the way most parents seemed to adore their children but she had grown used to him or David had got used to her depending on how you looked at it. Anyway they'd got themselves a routine going and she was managing better than she'd ever dreamed she would. She'd got the hang of the bottles and nappies thing, bottles were easy and after a month of changing filthy nappies she'd suddenly realised that they were not nearly as bad as patching up a perforated bowel and she did that without turning a hair. If it wasn't for the fact that he still woke up at least three times every night Sam would have been happy.

Inexplicably she was even becoming quite fond of him and found herself calling him Davey or sometimes strictly out of Dylan's earshot – he disapproved of baby talk and said so in no uncertain terms - poppet or pet and sometimes darling. She chattered away to him during the day not minding the lack of response - she was used to Dylan after all. She couldn't help a certain sense of gratification when he screamed and went rigid when Dylan touched him and then stopped crying when she picked him up. Encouraged by one of the women at the marina who'd seen her struggling with the pram and an excitable dog she'd bought one of those baby sling things and discovered he was much happier if she carried him about and he could see what was going on. They also went for some nice long walks with Dervla which made them all happier. Sam got appalling cabin fever if she didn't go out and exercise every day.

He was just six weeks old when he caught what appeared to be a sniffle, it made Davey exceptionally grumpy. His poor little nose streamed and he had a barking cough. He cried almost continually and Sam couldn't blame him he was clearly very miserable, he wasn't interested in his bottles and he didn't improve. He kept rubbing his ears which made her think they were probably hurting him. He was too little for Calpol and in the afternoon his temperature went higher and he developed a wheeze which frightened her. She was so alarmed that she took him into the Emergency Department only to have Tom Kent laugh at her and tell her that Davey just had a sniffle, she was making a fuss about nothing and how could she call herself a doctor. Dylan was furious with her for making such a fuss about a sniffle and showing them both up in from of all their colleagues and berated her in the car park. Mortified she took Davey home almost in tears.

She was still worried despite having been told she was making a fuss about nothing, because he was so clearly not very well. She tried steam but it didn't seem to improve his breathing or make the poor little mite more comfortable. Dylan was not due back until morning as he was on call all night and frankly she didn't want to talk to him right now anyway. He was a pig, he'd shouted at her and not shown the slightest concern for his nephew. Acting on impulse, instead of putting him in his cot she took him to bed with her and cuddled Davey close needing the comfort of human contact. She couldn't sleep and lay awake worrying about him. She was sure that something was really wrong with him and none of them would listen to her.

About 2am she was sure something was very wrong, Davey had refused to take a bottle since early that afternoon, she'd been unable to coax him to drink any water at all and he was clearly dehydrated. His breathing was noisy and he appeared to be struggling to catch his breath, and his face was flushed and dry he was clearly running a temperature. When she took it – it was heading for 40 degrees, she didn't have a pulse oximeter to hand but she was sure his SATs were falling. She vacillated for about 20 minutes unwilling to endure the mockery of her colleagues again but his respiratory rate and his heart rate were both far too high and he was clearly so unwell she decided to face Tom's amusement and Dylan's fury and take him back to the ED. She didn't care what they said he was really ill.

She rolled him in blankets, dressed hastily and drove back to Holby City much too fast. By the time she'd arrived Davy was limp, floppy and slightly blue. She abandoned the car in a staff parking space and rushed through the doors. Charlie took one look at the baby she was clutching and shouted for Tom. Before Sam had really grasped what was going on they'd snatched him from her arms and taken him into Paeds Resus leaving her to trail miserably behind.

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><p><em>Reviews will make me very happy especially as I have to go to work today and catch up on all I didn't do because I've been sick.<em>


	7. A Long Night

_As always thank you to all the lovely people who have taken the time to review my efforts. It does bolster me up and keep me writing. I hope you enjoy this part. I am aware that I've not thnaked anyone in person. I'm sorry about this but I've been ill - again and will try to do better._

_Apologies if any of the medical detail is wrong. Some of it is from my friend google and the rest came from a lovely friend who does Sam's job in a London ED and doesn't mind having her brian picked occasionally. Incidentally Tess' parenting advice in the previous chapter is a compilation of all the things I've heard my Mum say about my niece and my friends' Mums say about their grandchildren. I do not pretend to know anything about it. In my opinion an aunt's role is to feed chocolate between meals, spoil unmercifully, set a bad example and give unsuitable and extravagant gifts._

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><p><strong>7. A Long Night<strong>

She followed them through the doors and by the time she got there Scarlett was already holding an oxygen mask over Davey's face and Tom was trying to get a line into his tiny veins. He missed, swore and tried again. Davey appeared unable to cry or protest at all although it must have hurt him and that frightened Sam more than anything else. The monitors were not reassuring either her poor baby wasn't well at all. His SATs were still too low even with oxygen. She immediately began to worry about hypoxia and what that could do to him.

Tom had another attempt to get the line in and failed. She knew it was because Davey was so dehydrated his tiny veins would be collapsing but it was all she could do not to wrench the needle out of his hands and tell him to stop hurting her baby.

Charlie was cutting off the pale blue babygro she'd carefully dressed him in earlier.

"He hasn't got a rash," she said quickly. She might not be very objective right now but she'd checked nothing was marring the soft baby skin – almost as afraid of him catching measles when he was so tiny as she was of septicaemia but Davey was a well looked after baby and he didn't even have any nappy rash.

"When did you last get him to take a bottle," Tom asked.

She thought carefully "He had a little formula just after we left here but not much more than an ounce. I got a little bit of water into him at about 5 but he's refused everything since. "

Nick erupted into the room obviously forewarned by Noel that Dylan and Sam's nephew was there and very poorly.

"What are his SATs Scarlett?" he demanded reaching for his stethoscope

"92 with oxygen," the young nurse replied.

"Respiratory rate?" he rapped out.

"90 and his heart rate is 240" she responded nervously.

"It's no wonder you don't feel very well," Nick said gently to the tiny infant "If I was a tachycardic as you I'd be miserable. Tom stop trying to get that line in. I'll do it. The poor child isn't a pin cushion."

Much to Sam's relief Nick tried the other tiny hand and got the line in first time, then carefully splinted the arm to ensure that Davey did not pull it out again. Not that he was in a fit state to right now but if he improved doubtless the first thing he would try to do would be remove that irritating thing in his hand.

"I'll do the bloods myself," he said calmly "Scarlett I want to do an arterial blood gas. Can you get his nappy off please"

Sam stood frozen in horror resisting the desperate urge to snatch Davy off the trolley and take him home. Nick reached for the long thin needle and expertly slid it into his femoral artery. Davey flinched and let out a barely perceptible whimper. It was too much for her.

"Stop, please stop. You're hurting him," she cried desperately and rushed towards Nick and Davey with every intention of physically preventing her clinical lead from hurting her baby.

It was of course Charlie who crossed the room and put his arm round her both to stop her interfering in Davey's care and in a vain attempt to comfort her.

"Come on Sam, you know Nick has to do it. None of us will hurt him more than we have to." He tried to soothe her.

"I told you all he was ill this afternoon and you wouldn't listen," she fired back angrily "This is clearly just a sniffle."

"Can we worry about that later please Sam," Nick said smoothly "Right now let's focus on sorting David out. I like him to have a chest x-ray I think he may have pneumonia. We'll give him some broad spectrum antibiotics to be on the safe side. Is he allergic to penicillin Sam?"

Pneumonia, Sam felt instantly very sick. Babies died from pneumonia; if anything happened to him she'd never forgive herself. She should have ignored them all and taken Davey straight to St James when they'd told her he was fine. If she'd trusted her instincts this wouldn't have happened.

"Sam?" Nick prompted.

"I don't know," He's never had it before" she said feeling totally bewildered by the speed with which it was all happening and the way everything was suddenly completely out of her control. She felt completely vulnerable, she was never normally helpless in resus it was her world but it wasn't normally her baby lying defencelessly on a trolley.

"Family?" Nick asked.

"I don't know about his parents. Dylan might know about Mollie neither of us know who his father is Mollie wouldn't say. Dylan's not allergic to penicillin though" she said with certainty.

"What about you?" Nick asked again

"I'm not but that's hardly relevant," she pointed out. She shared no genes with the infant struggling to breathe in front of them. Their only connection was love. She was surprised by the sudden realisation that she did love Davey at least as much if not more than she loved his grumpy Uncle.

"We'll risk it then." Nick made a quick decision. "Let's give him some paracetamol as well and see if we can't get his temperature down and make him feel a bit more comfy. Scarlett change that oxygen mask for nasal cannulas he'll get more oxygen that way and I suspect it will bother him less. Charlie please can you get onto SCBU and let them know that we will be wanting a bed and that he'll need nursing in isolation until we know what he has. Has anyone told Dylan?"

"I wouldn't bother," Sam said bitterly "He thinks I'm making a fuss about a sniffle."

She was still very sore about the hurtful things he'd said to her in the car park. He should have been as worried as she was and he wasn't bothered at all.

"I'll tell him myself," Nick said "Try not to worry Sam."

Try not to worry what a stupid thing to say. Of course she was worried she was worried sick. All the nasty possibilities were building up in her brain and she was terrified. She'd promised Mollie she'd look after him and she'd made a right mess of that. She wanted so much to just pick him up and cuddle him but she didn't dare. She was vaguely aware of Charlie pushing her into a chair and someone maybe Scarlett thrusting a cup of tea into her hand and coaxing her to drink it. She drank it on autopilot – it was easier than arguing. It was horribly oversweetened and tasted disgusting. She picked up the tiny hand that didn't have a line in it and held it hoping that he'd know she was there and be less frightened – she was sure he was frightened.

"It's all right Davey precious. I won't let them hurt you anymore," she whispered almost inaudibly. "I'm here and I'm staying here."

Much as she loved him she still found it almost impossible to vocalise her feelings especially with other people in the room. She wondered where Dylan was. Nick must have told him what was going on by now. Presumably he didn't care enough about his nephew to come and see how he was for himself. He was probably too preoccupied with a fascinating medical condition in his precious CDU.

He still hadn't put in an appearance when the paediatrician in charge of SCBU that night came to assess Davey. Between them he and Nick told her that the chest x-ray had confirmed their suspicions that he did indeed have pneumonia. When they showed it to her it to her she could see that there were large patches in both lungs. If she hadn't been sitting down she'd have fallen over. They went on to say that they were running further tests but they had a feeling it might be RSV pneumonia rather than a bacterial infection

Sam knew a little about RSV. Respiratory Syncytial Virus was the most common cause of pneumonia in infants and that it was virulently infectious. No wonder they were nursing Davey in isolation those fragile scraps in SCBU would be decimated if they caught RSV. She was worried enough about what it would do to her otherwise healthy baby. There was little anyone could do except provide supportive care which he was already receiving and wait for the virus to run its course.

She was still furious with Dylan two hours later, Davey had been admitted to a little side ward away from the main SCBU. It was a much pleasanter room than normal and Sam had a suspicion that it was normally used to nurse those babies who were dying to give their parents as much privacy as possible. Isolation rooms did not normally come with a sofa. Davey was still semi-conscious and lay still in an open incubator where the temperature and humidity were carefully controlled. He was covered in a barrage of monitors, sensors and tubes, she knew it was all necessary but that didn't mean she liked seeing it all attached to her baby.

She stopped herself suddenly. Much as she wished that Davey was hers he wasn't and he never could be. She'd been surprised by how much her earlier admission that they didn't have a genetic link had hurt her. She also wondered how and when Davey had ceased to be a nuisance and somehow placed himself right at the centre of her world without her even noticing it happening.

"Sam" she heard Dylan's voice behind her but didn't deign to acknowledge him. He was hours too late. "Are you awake?"

She still refused to acknowledge his presence, he moved until he was standing in front of her and she could see he was holding out a mug of steaming coffee, doubtless it was his idea of an apology assuming he even realised one was required. She was thirsty and could murder a coffee but she was damned if she was going to accept it and make this easy for him. Apart from anything else she was still so infuriated with him she might just throw it over him instead.

Dylan gave up and put the coffee down on a side table before going to ostentatiously study the monitors obviously determined to draw his own conclusions about his nephew's condition. He looked at the x-ray and she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Pretty impressive for a sniffle wouldn't you say," Sam said icily.

"About that," Dylan shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "There really weren't any clinical indications of pneumonia this afternoon. Nick, Tom and I have spent the last hour and a half going through his notes with a fine toothcomb. I've checked every test and observation Tom carried out, it was all by the book. Davey didn't have pneumonia this afternoon. Babies can develop pneumonia very rapidly – you know that."

"All the more reason for you to have listened to me when I said he was deteriorating," Sam said furiously.

"I could hardly undermine Tom's clinical judgement," Dylan replied.

"But it was ok to undermine mine!" she was incandescent now.

"You weren't using clinical judgement. You're far too involved to be objective," Dylan retorted.

"Which makes a nice change from you! You're so bloody detached no one would believe Davey is your nephew," she said angrily.

"It won't help him or you if I get into a state." Dylan was clearly puzzled.

Sam gave up there was no point in arguing with him. He couldn't begin to comprehend her fear and anxiety for the fragile baby in front of her. Sometimes she wondered why she ever put up with his behaviour at all but she already knew the answer. Despite the fact that he was impossible and infuriating she loved him for all the good it did her. She still had no real idea how he felt about her. The night after the funeral she'd thought he still cared and then the next morning it had been as if nothing had ever happened. She wasn't sure if he'd wanted comfort or if he'd merely had an itch he'd used her to scratch. The stupid thing was whatever his motivation she loved him enough that she'd still do it all over again if she got the chance.

Maybe Dylan just saw her as a useful solution to the problem of being landed with his nephew. She sighed again, perhaps it would be best if once Davey got better; she refused to contemplate the alternative, she moved back into her flat and took Davey with her. She could love him and look after him on her own and if he wanted to Dylan could visit in the evenings and at weekends. They could handle this like other separated couples. It might be better for all of them that way.

An alarm sounded and she and Dylan both instantly moved forward towards Davey. She was half expecting him to have dislodged one of the monitors although as he was barely moving this seemed unlikely. To her horror his SATs were back below 90 and his heart rate was going up. He was getting worse. Dylan increased the oxygen then left the room returning swiftly with the paediatrician.

Sam could hear them discussing what should be done next and she probably ought to have some sort of input into the discussion but somehow she couldn't. She left them arguing about the merits of nebulised beta agonists and ribavirin – Dylan was keen to try them while the paediatrician felt there was insufficient evidence of their efficacy. Instead she held one of the tiny hands in hers and whispered to the baby promising him it would all be fine if he would just try to keep breathing for her.

She was vaguely aware that they were now arguing about mechanical ventilation. This time it was Dylan who was adamant he only wanted his nephew ventilated as an absolute last resort to prevent hypoxic brain injury. She supposed she should be grateful that Dylan was calm enough to look out for his nephew's best interests because she was incapable of doing so, right now she couldn't seem to think like a doctor. They must have reached an agreement because Dylan gradually drew her away from the incubator while the paediatrician and one of the nurses switched Davey onto CPAP with nebulised saline, salbutamol and ribavirin delivered along with the oxygen.

"Sam you're freezing," Dylan was gently guiding her towards the sofa as he spoke. She looked at him blankly, was she cold? "I'll be back in a minute"

He left her sitting on the sofa but was back in less than five minutes with a steaming mug of tea, a Holby fleece that was about 5 sizes too big for her and a blanket. He held out the fleece and then when she made no move to put it on wrapped it around her shoulders and tucked the blanket over her knees. The fleece must have been Dylan's because she could smell the soap he used and if she was honest there was also a faint whiff of dog.

"Please don't cry. I can't bear it when you cry." Dylan said rather desperately. She looked at him bemused she'd been totally unaware that she was crying. He took a tissue from the box on the back of the sofa and very carefully blotted the tears on her cheeks. "He'll be all right."

"You can't know that." She almost whispered.

"His SATs are better already and his heart rates dropping. Babies who die from RSV pneumonia aren't like Davey," he reassured her."He isn't underweight or malnourished, he hasn't got chronic heart or lung disease and he wasn't significantly premature. In a couple of days he'll be back at home yelling for his dinner."

"I wish I could be so sure. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him," Sam collapsed in another paroxysm of tears. "I couldn't bear to lose another baby."

She was aware of Dylan scooping her up into his arms and holding her close. She forgot she was supposed to be furious with him and buried her face in his shoulder sobbing the fear and hurt out. She wasn't entirely sure how long she clung to him but at some point she must have dozed off because when she woke up she was lying full length on the sofa and someone had arranged a pillow under her head and tucked her up in the blanket. There was bright sunlight in the room. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Dylan was nowhere to be seen.

"Your Davey's fine my love" Sam looked up to see an elderly specialist SCBU nurse sitting beside her nephew. "He's doing much better aren't you?" she was beaming at the baby as she spoke.

Sam got up and walked over to see for herself how well he was doing. Davey was a much better colour, someone had taken the CPAP equipment away and he was back on oxygen. His SATs were over 95 and he looked more alert. As she looked at him he opened his eyes and looked straight at her and lifted the unsplinted arm up towards her.

"Hello poppet," she whispered "are you feeling better?"

"I'd say he wants his Mum," the nurse smiled at her. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Can I?" Sam ignored the reference to her as his Mum it was going to be far too complicated to explain about Mollie.

"Of course, you sit yourself down and I'll get him out. A cuddle will do him good." The nurse replied.

The nurse; whose id said she was called Jill, picked Davey up careful not to pull the line out of his arm or disrupt the oxygen cannula in his nose and placed him in Sam's waiting arms. He immediately snuggled up to her and gazed up into her face with bright blue eyes. Sam immediately reached out to hold his unsplinted hand and was relieved when he held hers in a tight grip. With luck he wasn't going to suffer any permanent ill effects from his illness. It might take her nerves longer to recover than it took him.

"I've been so worried about you darling," Sam told him stroking the soft down on his head that passed for hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you now."

"Do you want to try giving him his bottle? I think he might take one now." Jill suggested kindly "He's much more likely to take it from you."

"Please," Sam said eagerly.

"Here you are." Jill held out a bottle she'd obviously been planning to give him while Sam was asleep.

Sam accepted the warm bottle and offered it to Davey who took it avidly. He sucked desperately on the battle and used his free hand to grip it as if he was afraid that someone might take it away from him.

"Slow down, Davey. You'll be sick if you drink your milk that fast," she warned the baby.

"Someone's hungry." Dylan sounded slightly amused.

Sam looked up at her husband "Where have you been?"

"You forgot his bear. I went to get it for him I thought he might miss it." He produced the fluffy white bear Sam had bought Davey in Newcastle.

She smiled, "He's too little too care, but thank you."

Dylan bent over their nephew obviously rapidly assessing his condition.

"He looks much better now doesn't he? Turner's been turning the oxygen down since about 9 this morning and he's keeping his SATS up on his own. You gave poor Sam a dreadful fright," he informed his nephew.

"What about his Uncle," Sam queried dryly.

"I knew he'd be fine," Dylan said cockily but the look on his face belied his words and Sam knew he'd been as anxious about their nephew as she had but there was no way she was going to get him to admit it. Not here when they might be overheard anyway.

"What time does your shift start?" she asked.

"It doesn't." he replied. "I told Nick I was staying here with you and Davey. He and Zoe will just have to manage or blow the budget and get a locum."

"What did he say?" she asked with interest.

"Not a lot says he'll be up later to see how Davey's getting on." Dylan said.

She was still amazed at Dylan's unexpected thoughtfulness some time later. He stayed with her and Davey all day and did not wander off to address some complicated medical conundrum. She was still touched by him going to find Davey's teddy bear even if he was still too little to notice its absence. Dylan had obviously thought the bear's presence would make Davey feel better although she suspected the only person it really made feel better was him. Late in the afternoon Nick appeared to see how Davey was getting on.

"Someone looks much better than he did last night." He said looking at Davey who was still cradled in Sam's arms but obviously taking an interest in everything that was going on.

"He does, doesn't he," Sam was feeling more charitably disposed towards the ED staff now that Davey was clearly getting better.

"Tom might come up later; he's riddled with guilt and is convinced he must have missed something," Nick told her carefully.

"There was nothing to miss," Dylan said abruptly "we checked."

Sam bristled but said nothing. With hindsight it was typical of Dylan to go over his nephew's case history rather than actually come and look at him himself.

"Well yes and no, he didn't miss anything clinical but he did forget that with tiny babies, Mum generally knows they are ill long before anyone else does and we all know Sam doesn't flap and make a fuss about nothing." Nick remarked apparently apropos of nothing.

Sam had an idea that the implied rebuke was aimed at Dylan as much as it was aimed at Tom but neither man was ever going to admit that. She decided this was an occasion where the less she said the better. She was much less angry now that Davey was recovering but that didn't mean she was ready to accept any apologies or say it didn't matter.

"Do you believe in something as nebulous as instinct then," Dylan challenged.

"I think it's got more to do with whoever is a baby's primary carer knows them so well they notice tiny signs that something is not right before it's obvious. A bit like we often know someone is going to crash before they do because we recognise certain signs even before the monitors pick it up." Nick said thoughtfully "I've learned to ignore a carer who says something is not right with a small baby at my peril. They deteriorate so damn fast fortunately they improve quickly too."

"It's hard to believe how ill he was last night," Sam agreed realising that Dylan was for once chastened and she'd better do something to gloss over the situation.

"It is." Nick agreed "I wouldn't want to tread on Turner's toes but with any luck you should be able to take him home tomorrow. Don't come back until you're sure he's better Dylan. I'd better get back God only knows what Lenny and Linda will be doing in my absence."

After he'd left, Dylan looked awkwardly at Sam then said "I'm sorry I shouted at you yesterday." Sam immediately gazed out of the window. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for flying pigs, I thought I heard you apologise but I must have misheard." She replied.

"You're not making this easy are you?" Dylan answered.

"Do you expect me to?" she retorted. "You humiliated me in front of everyone we work with when I needed you to support me. Even if I had been wrong which I wasn't you could have backed me up."

"I'm sorry, it was just you were behaving like a hysterical parent Sam. I'm used to you being calm and competent not losing it in the middle of the ED. Everyone was talking about us again," Dylan said uncomfortably.

"And you just can't bear being the subject of discussion can you?" Sam snapped

"I let you down and I'm sorry." He apologised and he clearly meant it for once.

"So you should be," she replied.

"I'm trying Sam but this is all completely new. It's not what we expected is it." He sounded very chastened.

She gave up on being cross then, there was no point. Despite his age Dylan looked like a woebegone small boy who'd just received a dressing down from the headmaster. "Just don't do it again," she said wearily.

Davey improved so rapidly that evening that by 9pm Dylan and Dr Turner between them persuaded Sam to go home to sleep rather than spend another uncomfortable night on the sofa. She'd demurred at first but the SCBU staff promised her that if there was the slightest sign that Davey would benefit from her presence they would phone her and she could come straight back. Jill the nice nurse pointed out that she'd be no use to Davey exhausted and starving hungry and she gave way. If she was honest the idea of a proper meal, hot bath, clean clothes and a proper bed was very attractive.

Dylan stopped at a deli he obviously frequented often and emerged with ready to eat salad, garlic bread and spaghetti and meatballs which they both consumed at speed. Sam hadn't realised quite how hungry she was until she sat down and faced a proper meal but now she acknowledged she was starving. She'd barely eaten at all the day before when she was trying to deal with a fretful baby and today there'd only been the bag of crisps and sandwich Dylan had brought her at some point. In her opinion the meal would have been improved by a nice glass of red wine but she never drank when she was with Dylan out of consideration for him and anyway she might need to drive later.

"It's odd today two people have referred to me as Davey's Mum" Sam said thoughtfully "and Nick at least knows I'm not."

"You'd have had trouble concealing it from him if you were," Dylan replied "Imagine trying to explain why you looked as if you'd swallowed a football. But to all intents and purposes you are Davey's Mum. He doesn't have anyone else."

"He has you?" she said quietly

"It's not the same and you know it." Dylan told her "You're the one who's looked after him since he was a day old. As far as he's concerned you are his Mum. It's always you he wants."

"He'd want you too if you showed any interest in him," she reminded him.

"I don't know how to." Dylan said regretfully "I've no idea about babies."

"Nor did I but you could learn. I did," she told him firmly "and it's about time you did. Daey deserves better."

"Sam what you said last night - what did you mean?" he asked and she knew he wasn't changing the subject for the sake of it.

"About what exactly?" Sam replied her heart sinking.

She could guess exactly what Dylan meant the only thing that surprised her was that it had taken him so long to bring it up. She'd been so upset last night she'd said things that in the cold light of day she wished she hadn't she was hoping the long silence had meant he was never going to mention it but no he'd just waited long enough for her to let her guard down.

"You said you couldn't bear to lose another baby, what the hell did you mean?" he asked her.

"It doesn't matter." She said hoping he'd let it drop.

"Yes it does. You complain I don't talk about things well neither do you. Tell me what you meant," he demanded.

There was no getting out of this, so she took a deep breath and tried to explain. "I'd been in Afghanistan about six weeks when I realised I was probably pregnant. I ignored it at first because I couldn't believe this could be happening and then I was sure."

"And..." he urged her to continue.

"I knew I'd have to tell the Chief Medical Officer and I knew that as soon as I did they'd fly me home. There's no way I'd be allowed to stay on at Bastion I wouldn't have wanted to either. Anyway it was a Friday night that I finally plucked up the courage to do a test and I'd the weekend off I thought I'd tell him first thing on Monday morning only by Monday morning there wasn't a baby anymore," she said sadly.

"So you went and asked them to check you out?" Dylan asked.

"No. I didn't tell anyone. There was no point I knew there was nothing anyone could do. I hid in my room and cried all day Sunday and then just got on with it on Monday." She replied trying to fight back the tears that always threatened whenever she thought about the baby who had never existed to anyone but her. It had happened so early on she didn't even have the comfort of a grainy scan picture to remind her that their baby had existed.

"Sam, why are you so careless with yourself? You could have haemorrhaged or picked up an infection," Dylan said anxiously

"But I didn't." She answered resignedly. "If something had gone wrong obviously I'd have asked for help but the last thing I wanted was everyone knowing or worse being sympathetic."

"How far gone were you?" he asked.

"About nine weeks, I think." She said, actually she knew exactly how pregnant she must have been because there was only one occasion when she could have conceived. The night before she'd left for Afghanistan.

"And you didn't tell me because..." he enquired a dangerous note in his voice.

"I was going to tell you but I wanted to tell you myself." She said quickly. "I was expecting to be flown home by the end of the week then I was going to come and find you but when there wasn't a baby anymore there was no point."

"I wish you'd said something." He sounded as if he meant it too.

"I didn't think you'd want to know. I wasn't sure you'd want a baby in fact I was scared you'd think it wasn't yours," she faltered.

"I can count Sam," he said dryly. "If you didn't tell me at the time why didn't you tell me when they posted you to Holby?

"That would have been a good conversation wouldn't it," she said sarcastically. "You'd just sworn me to secrecy about being married and didn't even want to acknowledge that you knew me. That would have been an ideal time to tell you that if things had been different we'd have a six week old baby now wouldn't it. Then you would have been relieved that there wasn't any baby and I minded. I couldn't have dealt with you not minding or worse not believing it was your baby."

"I would have believed you, you know," he said abruptly. "Whatever else has happened you've never lied to me."

"I know we didn't talk about babies or plan them" she went on almost as if he hadn't spoken "but it would have been ours and I loved it and I wanted it from the moment I knew it existed and then it didn't anymore."

Sam stopped speaking and instead buried her head in her hands at the table and burst into a fresh storm of tears. She tried very hard to block that awful Sunday out of her mind – thinking about it hurt far too much. She remembered waking to the sudden grinding pain and then the blood. Far too much blood and she'd known all her hopes and plans were over before they'd even had a chance to begin.

Dylan had got up and was standing behind her gently stroking the side of her face. "And I had to go and ask you to look after Davey. I'm sorry Sam. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known."

"I'm not sorry," she replied through her tears. "It was hard at first but I wouldn't be without him even if he has tipped everything upside down."

"If we're going to do this maybe we should do it properly," Dylan mused.

"What do you mean, properly?" she asked.

"Adopt Davey properly." He said abruptly. "Make sure he knows he's ours and no one can take him away."

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed chapter 7 if you did please let me know.<em>

_I am still sick but I hope to get chapter 8 up by the end of the weekend. I think it is part 8 where Sam will have to face the GMC and the consequences of her actions._


	8. Judgement Day

_Once again thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 7. Special thanks to Anny and Callie for making suggestions and allowing me to bounce ideas around. Once again it seems to be rather a long part but I knew where it needed to end and it took more words than I thought to get there._

_The GMC hearing comes entirely from my imagination. I've read accounts of them but obviously never attended one nor have any of my doctor friends (they are too well behaved evidently) so it is entirely a product of my fevered mind. I am also fairly sure there are more - many more skeletons to come tumbling out of Sam's closet. I can even imagine a few but my plot demands that they don't come out in this story._

I hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>8. Judgment Day<strong>

"Can we do that? Will they let us adopt him" Sam asked hopefully

"Can't see why not. Mollie left a proper will naming us as his guardians. We'll probably have to put up with social services poking their noses in." Dylan answered.

"Will they think we're good enough," she said nervously.

"Why shouldn't we be, he's certainly not going to find a better Mum than you," he assured her.

"We'll have to tidy the boat," Sam said "Will they let us adopt if we live on a boat?"

"I've no idea," Dylan replied. "Once Davey's home again and we've got your hearing over we'll find a family solicitor and find out what we need to do."

"I wish they'd give me some idea of when this hearing will be," Sam said her face falling. "It's been hanging over me for weeks. Is the stress meant to be part of the punishment, even though I didn't do anything wrong?"

"It's not easy," he said awkwardly "but most GMC complaints turn out to be completely unfounded – you know that. They put me through months of stress before deciding that actually I was in the clear."

"What really gets to me is that Keith Parr assaulted you. All I did was stop him but I'm the one getting all the flak." She responded the anger and bewilderment clear in her voice. She still couldn't understand why she was the one being judged and Parr had got off scot free. The Trust had for some reason not thought it appropriate to press charges despite the sanctimonious notices displayed all over the ED.

"I know," Dylan wrapped his arms around her. "This isn't helping either of us. Let's go to bed. You're shattered. It will all seem better after some sleep and in the morning you can go and see Davey."

Sam acquiesced mostly because she knew there was nothing either of them could do about the situation and they did both need to sleep. She didn't think Dylan had had any sleep at all whereas she had napped for about two hours on the sofa.

Their bed was a big super king one with plenty of soft pillows and a large fluffy quilt. There was no need at all for them to snuggle together, there was more than enough room for both of them but they did anyway. Except in those last ghastly weeks when they were falling apart they always had. It was so much easier to sleep when he held her close and when they were lying in the dark with her back pressed firmly against his chest it was easier to talk. They'd often found it easier to discuss the things that mattered under cover of darkness where neither could see the others face – there was just each other, the quiet and the dark.

"I'm sorry," Dylan murmured in her ear.

"What for?" she asked.

"That you lost the… our baby," he replied sadly.

"So am I," she whispered bleakly.

She'd often wondered if it hadn't happened, if she'd stayed pregnant and come back to England a year ago if she and Dylan could of, would have patched things up – for the sake of the baby although everyone said that was the worst possible reason. Although they seemed to have patched things up for Davey and thus far it was working or seemed to be although they hadn't discussed anything important or even said they were back together. She wondered what was being said about them in the ED – somehow she and Dylan seemed destined to be the subject of gossip at work wherever they were.

If she didn't know where she stood with Dylan she certainly didn't know how things stood with Zoe and Dylan if she was honest she'd never known. Sometimes she was convinced that the other woman had her eye on Dylan and Lenny had told her that he thought Zoe had been falling for Dylan before the shock revelation that actually he was married, or rather they were married. It was harder to tell how Dylan felt but she'd been sure that there was something between them until she'd gone north with Dylan and they'd almost slipped back into their old comfortable life. Dylan had his faults but she was sure he wouldn't string them both along. He wouldn't have moved Sam back into his boat and suggested that the two of them adopt Davey if he was still in a relationship with Zoe would he? She couldn't see where he'd have time to pursue a relationship with the other woman unless it was at work, because Dylan was either working, sleeping or with her and Davey.

She hated the mere thought of him with Zoe well actually the idea of Dylan with any other woman was painful. All she wanted was for things to go back to how they'd been when they were happy but you could never go back, the best you could hope for was to move forward and hope it would be all right.

"I wish I was the kind of person who was good with words and could say the right thing, but I'm not," Dylan interrupted her musing "and I'm sorry if I keep getting it all wrong but I'm sorry Sam. Sorry it happened, sorry you felt you had to deal with it all by yourself. Sorry I made you feel you couldn't tell me when you came to Holby."

"It's not your fault, if it is anyone's its mine," she replied

"It isn't your fault." He reassured her at once. "It just happens we both know that. There's nothing you did or didn't do that made the slightest difference."

"Except run away to a war zone," She said the guilt evident in her voice.

"You didn't know and it wouldn't have changed anything Sam." Dylan tried to comfort her "You know what they say women can crash the car or tumble downstairs and break their necks and if it's a well established pregnancy the baby will survive and if it's not they can spend months on bed rest and it will still end in tears."

"But I took prednisolone," she wailed "before I knew."

"Why?" he asked at once

"Because my eczema was so bad they were threatening to send me home, I'd nothing to come back for so I tried Pred." She explained her voice full of regret "I'd never have done it if I'd known."

"That's when you had worse eczema!" he said understanding dawning, "but there's no evidence to suggest prednisolone induces miscarriage or that it's teratogenic In fact several trials have shown it can prevent auto immune miscarriages. It's not your fault."

"I wish I could believe that," she replied sadly.

"What would you believe if it was anyone but you?" he said sensibly "Or if it was a patient telling you this."

"I'd tell them it was coincidence," she replied promptly.

"So you know it's not your fault." Dylan told her. "Don't torment yourself like this."

He stroked her hair gently, she wasn't sure whether the intention was to comfort her or to comfort himself but either way it was soothing. She burrowed closer into his embrace taking the solace he was offering partly for herself and partly because she knew that useless as he was with words Dylan needed to feel he was making it better and she didn't feel quite as bad, it had been eating away at her for months and there was a certain amount of relief in sharing the secret even if it was almost a year late. She hadn't felt right about telling anyone else even if she'd wanted to talk about it, the only other person concerned was Dylan and if he didn't know nobody else could.

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><p>They both went to see Davey first thing next morning. The moment he saw Sam leaning over the incubator his face lit up and he smiled at her. She hadn't been expecting that at all even though she knew from her Paeds training that babies often smiled from about six weeks. "You clever boy," she said beaming at him delighted that his first real smile had been for her rather than anyone else. "I missed you, did you miss me?"<p>

His obs were all excellent, Sam lifted him out of the cot delighted to see that he was breathing without any oxygen at all and he'd lost the line in his hand. Obviously Davey was managing to consume enough fluid to manage without it. She hated the large bruise she could see discolouring his tiny hand where the line had been, it didn't seem to be bothering him but it must be sore. She held him tight and was pleased when he nuzzled at her neck obviously happy to be being made a fuss of. She pressed a kiss on his soft head. He smelt of hospitals which was less pleasing. The moment she got him home he should have a nice warm bath and she'd dress him in his own clean warm clothes, she preferred him smelling of milk and baby powder.

"I told you, you're his favourite person in the world," Dylan remarked from behind her.

"Well you need to work on being his other favourite person," she replied surprising herself with her own firmness. "You can start by giving him a cuddle."

"He doesn't like me," Dylan said warily

"Rubbish, he just doesn't like being held as if he's an unexploded bomb that might go off at any moment. You be a good boy for Dylan Davey." She instructed the baby.

Calmly she deposited Davy into Dylan's unwilling arms before he had time to protest, making sure she stayed where he could see her and that she kept a reassuring grip on one tiny hand. Dylan stiffened slightly he'd still not had much contact with his nephew and when he had Davey had always instantly began to howl. In Dylan's experience babies did not like him. Much to her surprise and clearly Dylan's too the ear-splitting yells failed to materialise, Davey laid peacefully in his arms gazing intently into Dylan's eyes. Dylan gazed back and Sam held her breath hoping Davey would not go rigid or start to cry. If he did Dylan would lose his confidence, decide his nephew didn't like him and she'd spend weeks coaxing him to try again.

"I can't remember Sam, how far can he actually see at six weeks?" Dylan asked her.

Sam racked her brains for long forgotten child development "I can't remember much about focal range but he can certainly recognise people he knows and he knows you."

"He knows he doesn't like me," Dylan reiterated.

"Davey lets everyone know in no uncertain fashion if he doesn't like something and I'd say he's happy enough at the moment." Sam told him wondering why Dylan was so convinced a six week old baby disliked him. In fact she'd go so far as to say he was frightened of his small nephew. Davey could sense that fear and it was that he was reacting to she was sure of it. If she'd learned one thing in her crash course in baby care it was that they liked to feel safe.

"How's he getting on?" Tom Kent erupted into the room. He saw them both on the sofa cuddling Davey and instantly looked rather sheepish "I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not," Sam said seeing that Dylan looked absolutely mortified being caught with Davey in his arms. He hated anyone knowing how he felt about anyone or anything. "Davey's much better today."

Tom looked at the baby and smiled "He is, isn't he. No thanks to me."

"It's not your fault," Sam said quietly.

She'd spent a long time searching her conscience and had admitted even if only to herself that given the evidence she too would probably have sent Davey home if he hadn't been her baby. She'd vowed that if nothing else she'd learn from this and she was going to listen to frantic mothers and if they were worrying about nothing reassure them gently not send them away with a flea in their ear.

"I should have listened to you though. You knew he was ill and I ignored you." Tom clearly still held himself responsible for what had happened.

"There wasn't any clinical evidence," Dylan said brusquely "babies who aren't very unwell shouldn't be in hospital in case they catch something worse. It was the right call at the time."

"but..." Tom interrupted him.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said surprising herself – yesterday she'd have happily throttled Tom with her bare hands. "Davey's coming home today or tomorrow and that's all that's important."

In the event Davy was discharged just after lunch, a baby was born at 27 weeks in the maternity unit and then a very sick baby was admitted who might or might not have been shaken by his mother's boyfriend and Dr Turner needed all his beds. Technically because he'd been in SCBU Davey should have spent a minimum of 24 hours on the paediatric ward but Sam pleaded so hard to take him home now that Dr Turner gave way. Sam wasn't sure whether it was her pleading or Dylan's logical argument that Davey might still be infectious and they did not want RSV on the paediatric ward and he didn't want his nephew to pick up any other infection from paediatrics on top of his pneumonia that swayed him but either way they were victorious and bore Davey home to the boat in triumph.

The first thing she did was to give him the promised bath and put everything he'd worn in hospital in the washing machine for a very hot wash. When all traces of antiseptic had been washed away and he was dressed in a cosy babygro with elephants on and wrapped in the white blanket with embroidered ducks that Scarlett had given him he looked and smelt like her baby again.

"That's better isn't it poppet," she said "Now we'll get your Uncle to give you a nice bottle."

Dylan didn't look entirely thrilled at the prospect of giving Davey his bottle but Sam was adamant. She might make him put Davey to bed too. She'd much rather do it herself but she was absolutely determined to encourage the pair of them to get on better. Aside from anything else she was sure any social worker who came to assess them would frown on a potential adoptive parent who was not only completely inept but terrified of the baby too.

Dylan did manage to put their nephew to bed but he needed a great deal of help and encouragement from her and it took longer than usual to settle the baby down. Davey had grown used to Sam giving him his last bottle and a cuddle and he didn't think Dylan was much of a substitute. By the time he'd been coaxed to sleep they were both exhausted.

Her efforts turned out to be worth it the following weekend, she woke late in the Sunday morning to the realisation that Davey hadn't woken them for his breakfast. The room was totally silent and the only breathing she could hear was her own, fear suddenly gripped her what if he'd. All the SIDS babies she'd ever seen flashed through her mind in an instant and she sat up in panic. Dylan was not in bed beside her and the moses basket Davey had nearly outgrown was empty. She could hear clattering in the kitchen Dylan must have got up and taken Davey with him. She listened and could hear Dylan talking to him. She must have been completely out of it not to have heard Davey wake up and not noticed Dylan getting up or

"Can you be a good boy for me Davey and not cry," he implored him quietly, "Let Sam sleep for a bit longer. You've had your breakfast, we'll feed Dervla then we'll wake Sam up with a nice cup of coffee in a minute."

Sam grinned, Dylan would be hugely disappointed if she got up and joined them in the kitchen and spoilt his surprise so she leaned back on the pillows and stretched out across the bed. She'd ensure that she was suitably sleepy when the two Keogh males arrived to wake her up.

"Hiya Sleepyhead" she could hear the smile in his voice and she was flooded with relief. Dylan was clearly learning to cope with Davey. "We thought you were never going to wake up."

"We?" she asked with amusement.

"Davey and I! We've been listening to you snore for at least twenty minutes haven't we." Dylan addressed his nephew rhetorically.

"I don't snore," she said at once.

"I beg to differ." Dylan grinned at her. "You were out for the count."

She sat up with a mock yawn. Dylan had Davey tucked underneath one arm and a tray in his other hand. It looked rather precarious and she found herself hoping he wouldn't drop the tray or the baby. He dumped the tray down on the end of the bed and Sam gave a sigh of relief.

"Coffee?" she asked hopefully.

"And croissants," Dylan said smugly "but first Davey has something for you?"

"He does," she was seriously puzzled now.

Dylan handed her a largish envelope, which she opened curiously. Then she withdrew a mother's day card and her breath caught in her throat. She'd known what day it was – she could hardly miss it. The shops had been banging on about it since Valentine's Day but she'd not expected this. She hadn't expected anything at all. It was a fairly ordinary card but when she opened it she found that Dylan had written inside "To the best Mummy I could have. Love Davey" and there was a tiny hand and footprint inside. Her eyes filled up and she reached for the baby so she could bury her face in his hair.

"You are such a clever boy," she told him through the lump in her throat. "Who helped you?"

"Scarlett helped with the hand and foot prints," Dylan admitted "I didn't know how to do it but it turns out that she's the oldest of seven and knew what to do."

"Was it her idea?" Sam asked.

"No it was mine, well mostly my idea. I wanted to get you a card from Davey but when I said something at work, Scarlett told me I should put his handprint in it." Dylan explained rather sheepishly. As always he was embarrassed when he was caught out doing something sweet or thoughtful.

"How did you manage it?" she asked curiously.

"When I was looking after him, while you went to see the MDU lawyer bloke, Scarlett came here and bought the paint. I think she borrowed it from her kid brother." Dylan replied.

"Thank you, I didn't expect anything but it's wonderful probably the best present I've ever had," She said sincerely. The card meant more to her than anything else except perhaps her wedding ring.

Sam knew she would treasure the card not just because it was the first mother's day card she'd ever had or because it contained Davey's hand and footprint which were precious in themselves but because Dylan acknowledging her as Davey's mum even though she wasn't really meant the world to her. He could be so very sweet when he wanted to be. He'd even swallowed his pride and asked someone to help him because he was so anxious to get it right and that too meant a great deal coming from Dylan.

"We got you a present too" Dylan handed her a clumsily wrapped parcel which when unwrapped disclosed a framed photo of Davey and Dervla. She was not sure childcare experts would approve because in the photo Davey was lying on his sheepskin rug snuggled up to his canine companion.

Sam beamed, "Aren't they sweet? Do you think Dervla thinks he's a puppy?"

"Dervla is more than clever enough to tell the difference between small dogs and small humans," Dylan said stiffly.

"Of course she is," Sam agreed stifling a giggle. "Now are you going to drink this coffee with me before it goes cold?"

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><p>The letter came when Davey was ten weeks old, it set a date ten days hence for Sam to go to London and explain her actions to a GMC Panel. Dylan was summoned too as a witness and when he came back from work he told her that Zoe, Nick and Scarlett had also been asked to attend. Sam was frankly terrified. She was sure that Nick wouldn't say anything that would make the situation worse for her but she wasn't at all sure about Zoe. Zoe had been decidedly cool with her ever since she had gone to Northumberland with Dylan. Actually she'd barely seen her since she'd not been working. It was notable that Zoe had been the only member of staff not to pop in while Davey was in SCBU to see how he was doing and how Sam was coping. She'd also been the only one who had failed to provide her with some sort of support over the upcoming hearing.<p>

Dylan was remarkably unfussed about the whole thing, he was convinced it was all a matter of form the GMC had to be seen to be doing something and they were just going through the motions. Sam was unconvinced she was absolutely terrified that the GMC would decided that it was professional misconduct and she would face some sort of sanction.

"If they do anything even if it's just restrict my practice the army will dishonourably discharge me." She said nervously.

"Will that be the end of the world," Dylan asked her with a curious look on his face.

"Why do you ask?" she said in surprise.

"Sam you can hardly bear to leave Davey to go the supermarket." He pointed out, "how do you think you'll cope with going away for months on end?"

"I probably won't" she admitted shamefaced. She was horrified by how emotional and weak she seemed to have become since Davey's advent in her life. Leaving Dylan for long postings had been hellish but leaving her baby would be insupportable. "I've been thinking I'd have to resign my commission but I want it to be on my terms not theirs."

"I don't think Davey would be very happy if you went away without him either," Dylan said thoughtfully.

"And you definitely wouldn't b happy if you were left on your own with him." Sam challenged.

"I didn't say that," Dylan objected "Although I'm not sure how well I'd manage without you. You're still his favourite you know."

"That's only because I look after him most of the time." Sam said "Dylan what will we do with him if we both have to go to London. I can't take Davey to a GMC hearing."

"I don't know." He looked at her equally perplexed. "How about we ask Tess? You said she was good with Davey and she's always knitting him things."

"We could do that." Sam agreed "I don't want to leave him at all but Tess will keep him safe. Dylan what will I do if the GMC decides I should be struck off?"

"It won't come to that," he assured her.

"But what if it does?" she asked the familiar feeling of dread flooding through her again.

"I suppose we'll just have to have half a dozen babies so you don't have time to notice," he suggested.

"Dylan! Can you honestly see me being happy kept barefoot and pregnant" she said irately.

"I didn't say anything about bare feet," he replied deadpan "I can afford to buy you shoes."

"You, you..." Sam was lost for words so she picked up the nearest cushion and flung it at his head. It might have worked better as an expression of disgust if he hadn't flung it straight back and they ended up throwing cushions at each other like wayward children. While Dervla kept chasing the cushions that missed. Eventually they both collapsed breathless and giggling in a heap on the sofa.

"Don't think this means you're forgiven," Sam told him "You're still a sexist pig."

"A pig who thinks you've got nothing to worry about," Dylan said reassuringly.

Sam did worry though and slept less and less and ate very little as the day of judgement grew closer and closer. If she had not had Davey to distract her she was sure she would have gone mad. Dylan came home the night before and pressed a card into her hand which proved to be from Dixie, Jeff, Big Mac and Noel to wish her luck. She managed to crack at smile at Jeff's words he'd simply said "Good Luck Princess not that you'll need it." She didn't sleep at all that night and she found herself wishing that Davey had not learned to sleep through because she would have welcomed the comfort of his small warm body in her arms and the solace of looking into his eyes while she gave him his bottle.

At about 4am, she gave up pretending to sleep and got up to make tea. Dylan appeared behind her in the kitchen fully dressed less than ten minutes later.

"Put some clothes on, let's take Dervla and Davey for a walk it might make you less stressed." She looked at him blankly "You've been tossing and turning all night. Neither of us is going to sleep anymore. We might as well do something."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to keep you awake." She apologised at once.

"I wasn't sleepy anyway," he said giving her the first indication that he might be worried too.

Davey was not at all averse to being picked up, cuddled, bundled up in several layers of clothes, placed in the baby sling and then taken out for a walk in the dark. He didn't care about what time it was, he was warm, well fed and with his two favourite people and nothing else mattered to him. Dervla positively enjoyed the novelty of an early walk along the tow path and bounded along ahead of them. Dylan had his arm around Sam's shoulders and although neither of them said very much his presence, the fresh air and the exercise did help calm her nerves a little bit.

The effect did not last very long as all too soon they were back at the boat and preparing to catch the 7:12 to London. Sam scrambled into the black dress and jacket with matching high heels and Mollie's pearls while Dylan forced himself into a much hated suit and tie. Tess arrived to look after Davey – she'd said she thought he'd be happier in his own home than hers and after a flurry of last minute instructions from Sam about Davey's care and from Dylan as to Dervla's likes and dislikes they had to leave. Leaving Davey even in such kind, capable hands as Tess' had left Sam in tears which for once Dylan tactfully ignored. She'd managed to stem the flow of tears by the time they reached Holby station which was a relief. She didn't mind Nick and Scarlett seeing her cry but she didn't want Zoe to see any sign of weakness. The other three were already waiting on the platform when they arrived and as soon as the train from Swansea pulled in, they hurried to find the first class seats Nick had insisted on booking for the journey.

Nick and Zoe chattered inconsequentially the whole way, occasionally managing to draw Dylan into the conversation but Sam barely spoke at all preferring to lean against Dylan's supportive arm and try not to think about what was about to happen to her. Scarlett was equally silent but Sam suspected that was because she was nervous of both Dylan and Zoe. Normally she would have talked to the much younger woman but today putting her at her ease was more than she could manage. She was already worrying about Davy and hoping he was happy with Tess.

Nick insisted on a taxi from Paddington and they were at the GMC with time to spare. Once there Sam was separated from the others. They were merely witnesses while she was the one on trial so to speak. Being parted from Dylan was hard, he didn't say much but it helped simply to know that he was there, watching her back. They'd always looked out for each other no matter how bad things had got at times.

The room was set out very formally; it was a bit like a cross between a job interview and a court martial. Sam had been to a few of those as a witness. She was usually there to plead for clemency for whichever poor squaddie had found it all too much and done something stupid. This time it was her being put through the mill. Worst of all Keith Parr was in the room and he kept looking at her triumphantly. He was actually enjoying putting her through this she realised in horror. Whatever happened he would have the satisfaction of knowing he'd caused her all this distress and anxiety. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine hoping her turmoil did not show on her face. She would not let the pathetic little man win.

She answered the questions put to her to the best of her ability. Explaining that she had had no option but to restrain Mr Parr because he had entered a staff only area of the ED and then attacked a colleague, of course then they had to drag up that Dylan wasn't just a colleague he was her estranged husband and Sam resigned herself to a public airing of dirty linen. There were several episodes in her past she would rather were kept private. Inevitably the old scandal of her marriage was dragged up. No one could resist telling the story of the 22 year old medical student who had married the much older specialist registrar who was supposed to be her mentor. Keith Parr was clearly enjoying every salacious detail and she yearned to slap his smug face but knew that would definitely not help her. Doubtless it was answering a few questions that had long puzzled Scarlett and Zoe too.

On by one her colleagues gave evidence most of them she was relieved to see were wholly on her side and the testimony was on the whole favourable. Nick said some lovely things that in other circumstances might have made her cry and Scarlett and Zoe both said that Mr Parr had been aggressive and unpleasant earlier. Much was made of how tired and stressed she was after a bad day where she'd been almost heroic – there was a written statement from Jeff to this effect.

It was Dylan who almost finished her. He was asked why they had separated and he had told everyone that it was his fault - that his drinking had made her life intolerable and so they had separated. It was of course only half the truth he had omitted the salient fact that they had separated only after his drinking had driven her however briefly into the arms of another man. She wondered if he was saying it for her sake or his or if he wanted to preserve whatever vestiges of privacy they had left. She vaguely heard him telling them that they were trying again (which was news to her it would have been nice if he'd said something to her first) and they were bringing up their orphaned infant nephew. It certainly put a positive spin on their messy marriage and made her appear the innocent party and she wondered who had coached him, Nick or the MDU lawyer.

Keith Parr tried to appear the wronged party but it was becoming increasingly clear that he wasn't succeeding and the sympathy of most of the people in the room was with Sam. The panel adjourned the hearing for lunch and discussion. Sam sat nervously in an ante-room with the MDU lawyer longing to talk to Dylan and desperately worried about Davey. She couldn't begin to eat the lunch that they brought her it was like cardboard in her mouth and she couldn't swallow. In the end the lawyer gave way to her insistent pleading and let her go outside to phone Tess. She was slightly comforted when Tess told her that Davey had guzzled his bottle and was now having a nap. She assured her that he was happy and behaving himself and slightly reassured Sam returned to the grim little room to await her fate.

"Dr Nicholls if you could step back inside, the panel have made their decision." The rather smart looking secretary who had been recording the proceedings throughout stuck her head around the ante-room door.

Shaking Sam rose to her feet and moved back towards the room where the panel had reconvened. Dylan was waiting for her in the corridor. He gave her a quick hug "It will be all right. No one believed him, everybody knows he it was self defence." He murmured in her ear.

"I hope you're right. What will I do if they do think it was professional misconduct?" she whispered back.

"We"ll cross that bridge when we come to it," Dylan gave her another reassuring squeeze. "Remember whatever happens you still have Davey, Dervla and me."

She returned to the hearing room to hear her fate feeling slightly comforted but also incredibly nauseous. This could be the end of everything or a serious impediment to her career. She didn't think she could bear it f they decided that she was in the wrong, that kind of thing followed you around forever.

The severe looking doctor who had chaired the panel spoke. "It is the decision of the panel that while there is no question that Dr Nicholls assaulted Mr Parr we have taken into consideration the decision of the CPS and the testimony of the various witnesses and it is our belief that she acted entirely in self defence and as such we will take no further action."

Sam heard the chair's words but she could barely take them in. She swayed dizzily on her feet. It was over, it was really all over. She was aware of her defence lawyer thanking the panel, conscious of the loud protests of Keith Parr but it was as if it was all happening to somebody else and she was watching the action from somewhere else. Her lawyer had his hand on her back and was guiding her out of the room. She wanted Dylan and then she wanted to go home to Davey.

She saw her husband down the corridor and tried to move towards him but her feet wouldn't cooperate, her mouth was dry, she felt dizzy and sick, there was a loud ringing in her ears, the walls appeared to be moving inward while the floor was rushing up to meet her and then there was nothing but blackness.

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><p><em>The end - until next time. If you enjoyed this please let me know reviews are always welcome and I find them encouraging. Thanks for reading this epic.<em>


	9. Past Sins

_I hope I'm going to keep my word to Callie and have this up by midnight tonight. Thank you to everyon for their feedback. It is hugely appreciated. I'm als grateful for your patience I know this part has been ages in coming. I'm sorry real life has been incredibly fraught for the last fortnight. I had family and professional obligations and writing had to take a back seat. This is for Callie and Anny who are stars but also for Rachel who has encouraged me to finish this part. It is once again a long part and I hope you can make it to the end._

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><p><strong>9. Past Sins<strong>

"Come on Sam," She was aware of Dylan first, even before she opened her eyes she could hear his voice and knew that it was him supporting her head in his lap. He sounded quite worried, "Samantha you can't stay on this floor, it's cold, dirty and uncomfortable and that's just for me. For God's sake haven't all of you somewhere else to be? Give her some air."

She made an effort and opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Dylan's anxious eyes and then in the background Nick and Zoë who looked equally concerned.

"Shall I call an ambulance," she recognised the voice of her defence solicitor. The last thing she wanted was an ambulance and the inevitable trip to a London A&E that would result. She wanted to go home to Davey.

"No", she said surprising even herself "No ambulance."

"I don't think that will be necessary," she heard Nick say smoothly "it looks like an ordinary faint in which case a rest and a hot drink will probably suffice."

"There's a sofa, in here." The officious secretary flung open an office door "perhaps Dr Nicholls would like to lie down."

"Do you think you can sit up?" Dylan's voice was unexpectedly gentle in her ear.

She tried but the faintness returned almost as soon as she lifted her head. She managed to raise herself into a sitting position but felt so light headed she slumped back and would have fallen if Dylan hadn't caught her and supported her weight. She leant her head against his shoulder and waited for the dizziness to pass.

"Its ok sweetheart," he murmured in her ear "just take your time."

After a couple of minutes she made a second attempt to move but once again the corridor swooped around her in an alarming fashion. She sank back against Dylan.

"Time for Plan B I think," he said calmly.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her in the direction of the sofa. The movement increased the dizziness and she hurriedly shut her eyes in the hope it would reduce the nausea that had appeared out of nowhere. Thirty seconds later she was lying flat on a large and comfortable sofa, which smelled very expensive. When she risked cautiously opening her eyes Dylan was kneeling beside her holding her hand and looking worried.

She managed a weak smile "Thank you."

"You're freezing," he said anxiously.

She was aware of the room filling up and she wished they'd all go away and leave her in peace. She felt ghastly and it was embarrassing enough passing out in the corridor without having quite such an attentive audience. The efficient secretary was hovering with a pillow and a blanket which she offered Dylan. He carefully placed the pillow to support her head and neck then tucked the blanket tenderly around her.

"Would you like me to get you a glass of water," she asked kindly.

"Yes please," Sam managed.

"I can probably rustle up some brandy," the secretary added.

"Absolutely not," Dylan replied firmly. "It's a dangerous myth that brandy is an appropriate treatment for fainting."

"I'm sure Sam would appreciate tea and toast if you can manage that." Nick interjected smoothly.

She wasn't at all sure she could face any kind of food at all but it was going to take more energy to object than she possessed so she said nothing. The secretary left and Sam was aware that one of the Panel had taken her place – he was holding a GP case so presumably he was a GP. He opened the case and uninvited Dylan reached for the sphygmometer – that was so like him.

"Dylan, you can't do that!" Zoe exclaimed in horror.

"She's my wife, who else…" he retorted

"That's exactly why you mustn't," Zoe replied "It's not ethical you know it's not."

"How about I check you over Sam?" Nick suggested "Is that ok."

"As long as you make everyone except Dylan go away," Sam said. "I don't want an audience."

"Fair enough, shows over folks. It is ok for me to use your kit," he said apologetically to the still silent GP.

The other doctor nodded in agreement and departed followed by Zoe, Scarlett and everyone else who had filed into the room after them. Nick calmly attached the pulse oximeter to her finger.

"Well your SATs are ok, you're a bit bradycardiac though and your BPs in your boots," he announced.

"What do you expect, I fainted," she murmured sarcastically.

"When," he asked her thoughtfully "was the last time you actually ate a proper meal?"

"I had lunch," she said resentfully.

"They served you lunch – did you eat it?" he asked perceptively.

"I couldn't," she admitted.

"What about breakfast," he delved a little deeper.

"She didn't touch it." Dylan interrupted "and you only ate about two mouthfuls of dinner last night."

"I am still here you know," Sam said crossly.

"Well I think we all know why you ended up on the floor," Nick told her "Honestly Sam you know better than this. Eat the tea and toast when it comes and then have a proper meal when you feel up to moving. If I were you Dylan I'd stay in a hotel tonight. The tickets are open returns you can go back to Holby tomorrow."

"No." Sam was close to panic. "We can't stay. I have to go home."

"Don't be silly Sam, you're not fit to go back," Nick retorted.

"Davey," she reminded both men "I need to get back to Davey. I can't leave him all night."

"I'm sure Tess would…" Dylan began.

"Absolutely not!" she declared as firmly as she could trying to get up from the sofa. She wobbled dangerously and Nick and Dylan both grabbed at her to steady her then carefully lowered her back on to the couch. They exchanged despairing glances.

"Don't even think you're going anywhere until you've had a hot drink and eaten something," Nick said resolutely.

"I'll eat the damned toast and then I'm going home" she insisted.

She was too even if she had to crawl there, there was no way she was spending the night in London away from her baby. She was going to spend tonight in her own bed cuddled up next to Dylan with Davey snuffling away in his cot at the foot of their bed. That was where she belonged not in an expensive London hotel. They were all making so much fuss about a little faint. She'd be dismissed as a timewaster in her own ED.

Sam accepted the toast which the secretary bought with a good grace. She wasn't such a bad person after all. It wasn't her fault that she had been compelled to record the hearing it was just her job after all. The tray looked quite attractive; the tea was served in a small china pot with a small milk jug and sugar bowl. The toast had been cut into four triangles and spread with honey. There was also a slice of what was evidently homemade fruitcake. She thanked the woman and meekly allowed Dylan to pour her tea – he knew how she liked it so she was disgusted when he added two teaspoons of sugar to the cup.

"Dylan, I don't..." she began.

"...like sugar in your tea." He finished for her. "I know but this time you're going to drink it sweet. You need to get your blood sugar up enough to actually stand up if you want to go home. You are far too heavy to carry to Paddington."

"How rude!" she replied without heat.

"Well you're a heck of a lot heavier than you look." Dylan informed her "I thought I might put my back out."

She gave him a smug grin "that is because muscle weighs far more than fat."

She'd always tried hard to never miss an opportunity to point out that she was physically fitter and much stronger than he was despite the difference in their size.

"Are you sure that's it?" Dylan remarked "after all you've not been running since Davey arrived."

She ignored that particular inflammatory comment instead picking up a slice of toast and taking a tentative bite. It tasted better than she'd thought it would and to her surprise Sam realised she was quite hungry. She drank three cups of tea, ate all the toast and most of the cake.

"I feel much better now," she pronounced.

"Amazing what eating will do," Nick said dryly.

Ten minutes later he conceded they could leave and after polite thanks where appropriate the five of them departed in a taxi to Paddington for the first leg of their journey home. Once they were on the train Dylan ordered soup and sandwiches for everyone and the other four combined to insist that she ate her share completely ignoring her protest that she was not a prize pig to be fattened for slaughter.

She spent the rest of the journey in silence, leaning comfortably against Dylan's supporting arm her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed letting the others chatter roll over her. It was over and she was going home. She still had to sort out where she stood with Dylan and if they would be allowed to adopt Davey but this was a start. At least she didn't have to worry about losing her profession anymore and whatever decisions she made about working and/ or the army would be here decisions and her choices not ones which were forced upon her. In all honesty she wasn't entirely sure how she would bear going back to work and having to leave Davey in the hospital nursery but realistically it would have to be done. She was years away from completing her professional training and it wouldn't be helpful to take time out now – of course she might not have a choice but it would be time enough to think about that if she had to. She dozed off then and didn't stir until Dylan was shaking her awake and telling her that they would be at Holby in 5 minutes and she needed to wake up. She rubbed her yes sleepily yawned and sat up properly.

Nick was eyeing her sympathetically he'd clearly just roused an equally sleepy Scarlett. Sam was amused to note that she'd clearly drifted off on Nick's shoulder. Maybe if nothing else today would have taught the young nurse not to be afraid of their clinical lead. Sam knew full well his bark was far worse than his bite. He'd always taken a paternal interest in her and given half the chance he'd probably do the same with Scarlett. It was a shame he didn't have children she mused thoughtfully he'd have made a brilliant Dad. Although maybe he still would – men didn't run out of time. She was distracted from her train of thought by her husband.

"Come on Sam, time to get off." Dylan gently nudged her to get off and there was a general rush to get off the train before it raced on across the Severn and into Wales.

She couldn't help noting that Zoe had a face like thunder and she wondered what on earth she'd missed while she was asleep. Unless it had happened before Scarlett dozed off she was unlikely to find out because Dylan didn't notice what went on right under his nose and Nick was far too discreet for a little diplomatic questioning to work. Not that she did diplomatic very well anyway – the only person who was more tactless than she was, was well Dylan. Poor little Davey was unlikely to grow up to be a successful diplomat with their example in front of him. She'd far rather just ask what the problem was but she shied away from talking to Zoe at all at the moment.

There was such an atmosphere between them and she wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if Zoe hadn't known she and Dylan were married for months. Maybe she'd just hoped they wouldn't patch things up. It had looked highly unlikely and then suddenly Mollie had summoned them both to Northumberland and somehow they'd managed to resolve their difficulties or if she was honest lock them up in a nice big box and start again. Maybe Zoe had a right to be angry it was hard for Sam to tell because she didn't know how serious she and Dylan had been and if she was honest she didn't want to know. They'd promised each other complete truthfulness when they'd first got together but she'd been totally honest with him and their marriage had exploded. To quote Elizabeth Bennett sometimes honesty was a greatly overrated virtue. If Zoe and Dylan had been closely involved she was fairly sure she'd be happier not knowing, certainly she wasn't going to ask any questions to which she might not like the answer.

"Sam? You're miles away aren't you?" she jumped when Nick's voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Sorry," she looked blankly at Nick.

"I said we'll see you at 8 on Monday. I'll let you have the rest of the week to sort out childcare for Davey," he explained.

"What?" she looked at him blankly.

"Now the GMC has made their decision. You can come back to work. Nice though I'm sure your enforced three month paid vacation has been. I'd like you to start doing the job you're paid for again." Nick said slowly as if speaking to a particularly obtuse toddler. "Normally I'd make you start tomorrow but as Dylan is working I'll give you a couple of days to sort Davey out. I'll put you back on the rota from Monday."

Nick beamed at his own generosity but Zoë was still stony faced. Maybe she was simply irritated by all the extra shifts she'd had to do to cover for Sam's absence.

Oh, yes of course," she said vaguely, she'd forgotten that this afternoon's decision meant she'd actually be allowed to work again and hadn't really considered the implications at all. What would she do with Davey, what if the hospital nursery couldn't take him at short notice? They'd have to find him somewhere.

Scarlett was clearly pleased though, her smile was open and happy. "It will be nice to have you back," she said sincerely.

"It will be nice to be back." Sam replied although she wasn't at all sure that it would be.

"Come on Sam, or I'll need to mortgage the boat to get the car out of the car park," Dylan said impatiently. "The charges for that car park are robbery with menaces."

"Whatever Grumpy." She rolled her eyes at Scarlett. "I'll see you all on Monday."

They were silent on the short drive home, Dylan was never exactly communicative but she knew he was relieved at the verdict and still worried about her. She just wanted to get home to Davey, they'd been away more than twelve hours and she'd never ever left him for this long before. She didn't know if he'd missed her but she'd certainly missed him. She'd rung Tess at Paddington and been reassured that he was fine but that didn't stop her worrying about him.

Sam was so anxious to see him; she leapt out of the car almost as soon as Dylan brought it to a halt on the towpath. She could hear him crying as she hurried up the gangplank so she wrench open the door and hurried into the sitting room where Tess was pacing up and down with Davey on her shoulder.

"Davey darling, what's the matter?" Sam cried rushing to take him from Tess. The baby heard her voice and turned towards her with his arms outstretched. Sam realised that his blue eyes were full of tears but the loud wails stopped as soon as she had him held closely too her. "Oh poppet – real tears – what is it?"

"He was all right until about half an hour ago," Tess told her "then he appeared to be tired but he wouldn't settle. He wants you."

"Silly boy," Sam told him affectionately kissing the top of his head. "I told you I had to go out but I'd come back didn't I. I won't ever leave you I promise."

Davey settled comfortably against her and snuggled into her neck. He was so drowsy it was clear he'd be asleep in minutes but she was reluctant to put him in his cot yet. She'd waited all day for this cuddle and she wasn't minded to end it just yet.

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep Sam." Dylan appeared on the stairs "you'll have to leave him all day from Monday you know that."

"That's not what I meant." Sam said indignantly.

"You're back on Monday then," Tess sounded pleased "we've all missed you and Davey will be fine in the hospital nursery. You can always go and see him in your break."

"Thank you for looking after him for me Tess," Sam gave her a grateful smile.

"Anytime," Tess said "he's a lovely boy. I'll see you tomorrow Dylan and I'll see you and Davey on Monday Sam."

She smiled at them both collected her handbag, shopping bag and coat and quietly let herself out. For the first time Sam wondered what Tess was going home to. Someone possibly Lenny had told her that Tess' husband had left her and that her only son had been mentally ill. Tess hadn't had it easy and yet she was mostly bright, cheerful professional and kind. Yet she'd be going home alone to an empty house. Maybe she liked it and didn't feel the way Sam had in her own lonely flat.

"You should be in bed," Dylan said

"Why?" she retorted.

"Sam you ended up on the floor and you were out of it for a good five minutes. Nick and I were really worried about you. You should lie down and rest," he reiterated.

"I feel fine now," she said irritably. And she did feel much better, she was home, Davey was sleeping in her arms and everything was right with her world. Or as right as it could be unless she braved a very uncomfortable and embarrassing conversation with him and then her world might be far from all right.

"You can cuddle him just as easily in bed." Dylan pointed out "Come on I'll make tea and we can curl up and have an early night. I didn't sleep much last night either and I've got to be up for work."

Suddenly feeling very guilty, Sam acquiesced. Dylan's day had been as long as hers and while he may have been able to eat he'd had as little sleep as she had mostly because she'd kept him awake tossing turning almost all the previous night. She put Davey in his cot so she could wash and change then clambered into their nice warm soft bed. She was far more comfortabl with her hair down and clad in an old soft t-shirt of Dylan's than she'd been in formal wear - the unaccustomed heels had been killing her feet. She snuggled into the pillows on her side of the bed, this was far better than some anonymous hotel room this was their home. The tide was coming in and she could hear the waves slapping against the sides of the boat. She even liked the gentle rocking motion as the houseboat moved with the ebb and flow of the tide. She'd thought Dylan was mad when she'd first heard he was living on a houseboat and now there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

"Managed to put Davey down then," Dylan padded in with two steaming cups of cocoa "I thought this might be a better choice for bedtime" he explained handing her one mug.

"He should sleep in his bed really" Sam said a little shame faced. She knew that for the last twenty minutes she'd been cradling him to comfort herself not for the baby's sake.

"You don't want to go back do you?" Dylan said unexpectedly.

Sam was taken aback it wasn't like him to be that perceptive. "Not really no." she admitted "I don't want to leave Davey with strangers."

"You don't have to go back if you don't want to," Dylan replied "If you'd rather stay at home with him that's fine by me."

She gaped at him for a moment unable to believe her ears. Surely Dylan hadn't said that. Dylan who had spent years pushing her to do better, to work harder, and to be the best she possible could. He'd always encouraged her to excel and now he was saying he'd back her if she wanted to give it all up. "You don't mean that!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he sounded confused.

"You always said women who chucked it all in to have babies wasted all the money the NHS spent training them," she reminded him. "I think you once said they should have to pay it back."

"Well other women yes but if it makes you and Davey happy its fine by me," Dylan told her seemingly unaware there might be any hypocrisy in his statement.

"I'd love to stay at home with him" she admitted slowly "but I think in the end I'd be bored and I'd regret it. I'm going to resign my commission though and hope Nick will let me stay."

"I don't think that will be a problem." Dylan replied "He doesn't want you to go – he's made that obvious more than once. I'm glad you're leaving the Army. I've always hated you being at their beck and call.

"Instead of yours," She said slyly.

"Of course," Dylan gave her the half smile that always left her slightly weak at the knees. "Sam did you really faint because you hadn't eaten or was it something else?"

"What do you mean," she said evasively. This wasn't a discussion she wanted to have right now.

"I was wondering…" his voice trailed off.

"Wondering what?" she snapped

"Are you… could you be…pregnant?" he asked very tentatively.

"It's not impossible" she confessed. "I started wondering a few days ago but I put it down to all the stress. Until today I've not had any other symptoms. Before I was sick, dizzy and there were other signs" she added hastily.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

"I told you I didn't notice for ages. I was busy with Davey then he was ill. I thought it was stress then when I thought maybe it wasn't I was afraid of how you'd react. I mean you didn't want Davey and if…if I am we'll have two babies under a year. It's a bit of a nightmare. I thought you'd be annoyed..." Sam trailed off

"Sam it takes two. If it's anyone's fault its mine. I initiated it and I wasn't careful," he groaned "I'm sorry Sam."

"I'm not." She was surprised at her own certainty. "If there is a baby it will be ours, we'll love it like we do Davey and we'll manage."

"Either way Sam, we both need to know," he sounded resigned.

"I'll get a test tomorrow," she agreed. She could hardly carry on ignoring their potential predicament. "I can't do anything about it now and you're tired. Let's go to sleep."

She reached out to switch off the light then curled up against Dylan – resting her head on his shoulder he automatically wrapped his arm around her holding her close. He must have been exhausted because he was asleep almost instantly. Sam lay awake a little longer listening to his even breathing and the regular thump of his heart content to be close to him again. It was strange before she'd taken falling asleep next to her husband for granted she never would again.

* * *

><p>She didn't need to bother with a test, the familiar dull ache began around lunchtime and by the time Dylan returned in the evening she was curled up on the sofa clutching a hot water bottle a sleepy Davey snuggled by her side.<p>

"Are you all right," he sounded anxious again.

Sam tried to smile; she didn't want to worry him he had had enough to think about. Looking on the bright side she was probably about to dispense with one of his concerns. "I think we can assume it was stress," she said wryly. "If there was a baby there certainly isn't now."

"Do you think…?" he asked tentatively.

"No, like I said I didn't feel like I did before and I'm uncomfortable now but it's not the same as it was the other time. That was agonising." She explained with a shudder remembering that horrendous day just over a year ago.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to remind you," he apologised.

"I don't need reminding," she replied "I never forget."

"Are you ok," he asked.

"Fine," she said as reassuringly as she could manage.

"You're disappointed," his voice was almost accusing.

"Not really" she prevaricated. "The timing is dreadful and two babies under a year would be hellish. We can barely cope with Davey."

Who was she trying to fool Sam thought, she wasn't fooling anyone least of all herself and Dylan knew it. She was disappointed, gut wrenchingly disappointed. Part of her had desperately wanted to be having Dylan's baby even if it would have been madness just now. She wondered how Dylan felt and if he was disappointed too or relieved? She suspected he was probably relieved, he was doing better with Davey but he still found it really difficult.

"Sam if it's what you want?" he stumbled over the words "if you want another baby we could…"

"Dylan no sane person would plan a baby now." She replied "It would be madness."

The fact that it would be completely crazy didn't stop her from wanting it though. Logically she knew it was the worst possible time but her heart and hormones were telling her something else entirely. She would be sensible though and ignore the illogical impulse that didn't want to wait. They wouldn't plan a brother or sister for Davey until he was older and needed less attention. They needed to sort themselves out, resolve the outstanding legal issues around adopting him, needed to know where they stood with each other too. Time enough for more babies when life was on an even keel – she had a permanent job and had left the Army. They had plenty of time. She wondered why such an eminently level-headed decision was so unappealing and hurt so much.

"It's up to you Sam, when you're ready." he changed the subject abruptly "I made us an appointment with a family lawyer for tomorrow," "Linda and Charlie both say she's good."

"Oh," Sam felt unaccountably nervous at the mere thought.

She didn't like lawyers. She was so afraid that she and Dylan were going to be judged and found wanting. What if they weren't allowed to adopt Davey? Worse – what if social services decided they weren't fit to look after him and took him away. If she lost Davey – she wasn't sure she could carry on. Doubtless seeing the solicitor was going to mean digging around in parts of the past she's much rather leave buried. She didn't want to discuss her own dysfunctional childhood, or the mess she and Dylan had made of their marriage with anyone.

"I don't want to do it either but if we want to adopt Davey we're going to have jump through all the right hoops." Dylan reminded her.

"I know," she sighed "I'm just afraid they'll say we're not good enough. There's enough people can use against us after all."

"Why don't we wait and see what she says?" he suggested. "You up to going out for a little walk?"

"Of course, I'm not an invalid." she answered.

"Then let's take Davey and Dervla and go down to the beach for the evening. We can have fish and chips."

"I'd love to." She smiled – Dylan really was trying and it would be nice to go out.

* * *

><p>She picked Dylan up from the hospital next day at lunchtime and they went to see the solicitor. Mrs Annabel Jones turned out to be a nice woman in her late thirties, Sam winced at her cut glass accent immediately reminded of people both at medical school and in the Army who'd made unfavourable judgements based on her slight regional accent but the solicitor was kind and anxious to put them both at their ease but she certainly put them through their paces. At first the questions were easy.<p>

"How old is your nephew," she asked as soon as they'd got through the preliminary introductions.

"Three months," Sam replied at once.

"How long have you cared for him," Annabel continued.

"Just over 12 weeks," Sam answered. "We took him home from the hospital when he was a day old."

"And he's your sister's child Dr Keogh." Annabel turned to Dylan presumably to try and get him to contribute to the conversation.

"Yes" he said baldly.

"She is happy to relinquish parental responsibility." She was trying hard to get Dylan to participate.

"She's dead. Sam and I were named as his guardians in her will," Dylan stated.

"And his father?" she asked.

"I've no idea who he is. Mollie would never say and I don't think she'd told him." Dylan explained wearily.

"That could be slightly problematic. It's always an issue when there's an absent parent who does not consent but it can be overcome," Annabel observed. "How long have you been married?"

"Four years nearly five " Dylan said promptly

Sam waited for him to explain they'd been separated but he didn't and she wondered how best to bring it up, because she was sure honesty was the best policy when asking your solicitor for advice. She also had a feeling that if they didn't disclose it people would find out anyway,

"I've looked at the paperwork, there's quite an age gap between you." Annabel remarked.

"Is that going to be a problem," Sam said wearily. She shouldn't be surprised people always thought it was a problem. Why should this be any different?

"It shouldn't be?" the solicitor reflected neither of you is to old or too young to adopt an infant. "You both work full time don't you."

"Yes." Sam replied.

"How is Davey cared for when you are working?" she enquired.

"Sam's been off work but he's going to the hospital nursery when we're working the same shifts. It's registered." Dylan pointed out.

"I see," Annabel considered "This should be a reasonably simple procedure because you have parental responsibility and Davey is already living with you and has been for three months. You can't officially apply to adopt him until he is eighteen weeks because the three months does not start until he is six weeks old. Then you lodge an application with social services, they will do a Home Study and then assuming all goes well you go to court and the judge will grant an adoption order."

"That sounds quite straight forward." Sam said relieved. It sounded as if it was a formality rather than the ordeal she'd been dreading.

"It usually is with a simple family adoption." Annabel responded "One thing, I do have to ask is there anything that will come up if social services begin investigating. They will get a GP report, references and generally try to find out as much as they can about your lives."

Dylan groaned and Sam's heart sank like a stone. This was it all the skeletons were going to have to come out of the closet and this nice woman was going to decide that this wasn't going to be easy after all. Worse she might decide she couldn't help them.

"They won't have to dig very deeply" she said in a resigned voice.

"Tell me," Annabel commanded.

"Where to start?" Sam answered "Dylan was my mentor when I was at Med School. There was a scandal when we got together. Everyone disapproved and thought it was inappropriate. They threatened to sack Dylan. It didn't matter – we loved each other and were married in a couple of months."

"If that's all I don't think you've anything to worry about. You weren't underage – there's no impropriety..." Annabel was reassuring.

"It's not all. We had a rough patch and separated for a while – well just over a year" Sam admitted hating having to tell anyone at all. "We've sorted it out now though."

"How long have you been back together?" Annabel asked at once.

"Living together, twelve weeks," Dylan said abruptly but we've been trying to sort it out since Sam came to Holby in October."

"So you decided to move back in together when Davey became your responsibility?" Annabel enquired.

"No when Mollie was ill," Dylan contradicted.

"We were taking it slowly," Sam said quick to pick up Dylan's cue "but then it seemed better to hurry things up."

"Did you come to Holby with the intention of patching things up?" Annabel asked.

"Of course," Sam said quickly.

At least that part was true. Dylan might have been surprised to see her but she hadn't been at all surprised to see him – she'd told the Army she wanted a South West secondment to be near him and when Holby had been one of the options she'd put it as her first choice. She'd spent nine months in Afghanistan regretting the mess her marriage had become and desperately wanting to put things right but not knowing how.

"Why did you separate in the first place? I'm sorry I have to ask – social services will." Annabel did sound very apologetic.

"A combination of things I suppose," Sam said carefully "The Army was always sending me on long postings where we couldn't be together,"

"You're in the Army?"She sounded stunned

"Was." Sam replied "I've resigned my commission because I won't risk being posted back to Afghanistan and having to leave Davey for months on end."

"What were the other things?" Annabel asked.

There was a long silence, neither of them wanted to explain anymore it didn't make either of them look good.

"I drank too much," Dylan said slowly "There was a complaint made about me to the GMC an unfounded one and I dealt with it by drinking. That was the final straw and Sam left me. I was never an alcoholic I can stop and I did. It was a wakeup call I haven't had a drink since and I don't intend to." he insisted.

"Is that all," Annabel asked.

"It's enough isn't it?" Dylan said.

Sam said nothing, despite knowing full well it wasn't all. They hadn't mentioned her own failure to keep the promises she'd made or Keith Parr's unfounded complaint about her. She hated being compelled to air their dirty linen in public like this. She'd much rather leave the past in the past where it belonged but first Annabel and then Holby Social Services were going to judge them on their previous actions and she was sure they would be found wanting. It didn't sound good and proved they had both been less than perfect.

"If you were to make an application for an adoption order now I cannot guarantee that you would be successful." Annabel said slowly "My professional advice would be for you to wait for at least a year before applying to the courts."

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry but I've done my research (hope my google history is never used against me) and it had to be done. Hoep you enjoyed this despite the temporary disappointment. If you did, as always please flatter my delicate ego and let me know.<em>


	10. Atonement

_Thank you all for your patience. I know it's been ages since I last updated, this is a slightly shorter part than usual as I decided it was better to post something than wait until I reached the point I planned. I think it breaks well here anyway._

_As always thank you to everyone who has reviewed my efforts and let me know what they think and to those who have nagged me to hurry up and update. It has been an incentive to keep going when other things have got in the way. Special thanks to Callie for providing moral support p[articularly after midnight._

* * *

><p><strong>10. Atonement<strong>

"A year!" Sam exclaimed in horror. "You want us to wait a year! Will social services really hold it against us that we aren't perfect!"

"Social services aren't looking for perfect parents," Annabel replied. "They know perfect doesn't exist what they want are 'good enough parents' but they will want to see evidence that you've put the past behind you and learned from your mistakes."

"How do we go about doing that?" Dylan asked.

"I recommend you wait until you've been reconciled for at least a year before you make an application you'll stand more chance of success." Annabel explained

"I see," Sam couldn't keep the wobble out of her voice.

"I know this is a disappointment but it's not the end of the world," Annabel said gently "You already have parental responsibility so there's no problem with him continuing to live with you and nothing to stop you making decisions about his welfare. A year isn't so long in the scheme of things."

"We may have made a few mistakes but that doesn't mean we won't do what's best for Davey," Sam said slightly desperately.

"I don't doubt you want what's best for him or that you want to adopt Davey." Annabel was mollifying "and I'm sure that you'll do a good job but it really would be in your best interests to wait. You don't want to be in the position of being turned down and having to apply again."

"I see," Dylan replied "Thank you very much for your time."

He was holding it together better than she was. Sam wondered if his disappointment was less acute or if he was simply better than hiding it. She couldn't fathom why he was thanking her for her time when they were the ones who would be paying for the unwanted advice and side order of humiliation. They said polite goodbyes and left hastily.

Sam was on the verge of tears and she was hanging onto her self control by a thread. Dylan squeezed her hand gently which helped a little but not much when what she really wanted was a hug but that wasn't an option until they were somewhere more private than the centre of Holby. She sucked in a deep breath and then another fighting to regain her self control. She had no intention of breaking down in public.

"That's it then," she said once they were back in the car "we're officially unfit parents."

"That's not what she said," Dylan disagreed.

"That's what she meant though." Sam fought back the tears; she'd cried over him enough recently "I've been so afraid they'd think we weren't good enough. We've messed up so many times or rather I've screwed everything up so many times. It sounds even worse than it is when she made us list it all like that and you didn't even tell her the worst of it."

"It was never just you and there's no official record of anything else," Dylan said hastily. "They could find out the other things but that's just between us – no one else knows and nobody else has to know. Let them all think it was the Army and my drinking. Why drag out everything in public and make it worse than it is."

She sat silently beside him suddenly determined that this evening – once Davey was in bed they would sit down and talk – really talk. If they were going to make their marriage work, be decent parents they had to face all the mistakes they'd made and work out how to fix them. That meant she was going to have to make Dylan talk about her betrayal and she would have to face up to what had or had not happened with Zoë. However many secrets they kept from the rest of the world it was time they stopped keeping them from each other. One way or another she was going to know exactly where they both stood before she went back to work on Monday.

She didn't say anything else until he'd pulled up outside the hospital. Then she forced herself to say something before he went back to work. "Dylan," she hoped she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. "We need to talk."

"Do we?" he sounded disinterested

"You know we do. We've screwed our lives up but we can't screw up Davey's too." she insisted.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean we need to sort out the mess we've made of our lives and our marriage before we can move on and prove to social services we're good enough for him to be our son," she said firmly.

"He already is." Dylan stated "He's been ours right from the start."

"Officially I mean. I need to know he belongs to us and no one can take him away," she explained.

"No one's going to take him away." Dylan reassured her "I won't let them. I promised Mollie I'd keep him safe and I will. I'd take him and run away with you before I'd allow that to happen."

"Really?" she asked in surprise. Dylan wasn't a risk taker like she was. "You'd do that for us."

"Of course I would," he assured her. "You and Davey matter more than anything else. Who do social services think they are anyway? Mollie made her choice and hers is the only opinion that matters."

"I suppose they only want what's best for him." Sam admitted slowly "Which is what we want too."

"You're the best thing that could have happened to him. Mollie knew what she was doing." Dylan said firmly.

"Mollie barely knew me," Sam told him. "She'd only met me a couple of times."

"But she gave him to you," he reminded her. "It wasn't me she handed him to and said he was mine now - it was you."

"Only because I was nearest," she replied.

"I don't think it was that at all. Mollie knew you'd look after her baby for her and she was right. You've managed far better than I have. Only an idiot would think he doesn't belong with us," he asserted.

"I'm afraid social services might be idiots," she said wryly giving him a faint smile. She wondered how much of it he really believed and how much of it was him trying to make her feel better. Of course Dylan had far more self confidence that she did and he probably did believe that no one could make better parents than they did. She wasn't at all sure they were the best parents Davey could have but the one thing she was sure of was that no one could love him more than they

"I need to get back," he said reluctantly. "Nick will be going spare and Zoe was distinctly unimpressed about my long lunch."

"I'll bet." She agreed "I'll get some dinner. Is Sausages and mash ok?"

"Fine," he agreed.

"Good because that's all there is in the fridge," Sam informed him.

Dylan grinned at her "I could get used to coming home to a hot meal."

"Don't, because it won't be happening once I'm back at work," she told him firmly. "It will be back to take away and the microwave unless you cook."

"Good thing I didn't marry you for your housekeeping skills" he replied at once. "I'll see you tonight."

They both got out, so she could drive home and much to her surprise Dylan kissed her in the middle of the car park where everybody could see them without checking to see whether anyone was looking first. Deciding to make the most of the unexpected public display of affection she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back – thoroughly.

"Are you planning to do any work at all this afternoon Dr Keogh?" Zoe asked acidly rudely interrupting what had promised to be a very pleasant interlude.

They pulled apart awkwardly and Sam wondered if she was a red faced as Dylan was. Why did Zoë have to spoil a pleasant goodbye kiss? It wasn't as if Dylan didn't usually work hours of unpaid overtime.

"I'll see you tonight," Dylan murmured uncomfortably.

She knew he was embarrassed at being caught kissing his wife by a colleague and she didn't feel that much better about it. They'd always tried to keep their relationship out of the ED even if they'd not always been very successful. She patted his arm gently. "Try not to stay too late."

She drove home, still fuming at Zoe's unwanted interference. It was almost as if she'd deliberately ruined the brief moment of affection they'd shared so briefly. She had to stop fretting about it once she reached the boat, Davey who had spent the afternoon with a doting Scarlett was in a crotchety mood and Sam spent most of the rest of the day trying to entertain him. It was difficult to do anything at all because all Davey wanted was to be held and preferably to be kept in perpetual motion. She paced up and down the sitting room, walked round and round the deck and finally in despair she took him for a walk.

It didn't help that she was on edge and couldn't relax either. She was determined to have it out with Dylan as soon as Davey was in bed with the result that she couldn't settle to anything for the rest of the day. Her concentration was shot to bits and she found herself putting the milk in the dishwasher and a dirty mug in the fridge. She burned the sausages for dinner and the mash was lumpy but uncharacteristically Dylan didn't complain just scraped the burnt bits off. Finally she managed to break 2 glasses and a plate clearing away then cut herself on the broken glass. At that point Dylan plastered up her finger and insisted on taking over the clearing up. She really wanted a stiff Scotch but there was no alcohol on the boat and she'd left her bottle of Johnny Walker in the flat she'd barely set foot in for months. She knew Dylan would disapprove but she could do with some Dutch courage, but on the whole it was probably a good thing that she didn't have access to any - she didn't want to end up with Dylan's problem - she knew from experience how easily it could happen.

When she attempted to put Davey to bed he wouldn't settle. She bathed him, gave him his bottle, read to him much to Dylan's amusement then tried repeatedly to get him to lie down in his cot and sleep but he was clingy and cried every time she tried to put him down. None of the usual things worked and she was getting desperate and so was he.

"Davey darling" she said softly "You're very tired, please lie down like a good boy and go to sleep for me."

The baby wailed even more loudly when she attempted to put him in his cot this time. In despair Sam sat in the rocking chair and decided to attempt to cuddle him to sleep. It was exactly what all the books said she should not do but there was no way she could bear leaving him to cry alone tonight. Controlled crying sounded barbaric enough in theory and on the one occasion when she'd tried it in practice it had been worse. He'd cried for hours in the bedroom and she'd been distraught sitting on the floor outside the bedroom door sobbing. Fortunately he was normally good about bedtime and they'd not endured an evening like this for weeks.

"Let me have a try," Dylan appeared in the room "You're wound up tighter than a spring and he knows it. No wonder the poor little sod can't calm down and go to sleep when you're so tense."

He picked Davey up and put him over his shoulder, rubbing the baby's back soothingly. "It's all right Davey boy. You have a nice sleep and it will all be much better."

Irritatingly the crying stopped almost instantly and Davey started to snuffle sleepily. Sam was irrationally close to tears – she wasn't even able to calm her baby down for bed – Annabel was right she really wasn't good enough for this. She was useless and it would be much better if she just went away and left Dylan to it. She turned on her heel and walked out silently without kissing Davey or saying good night then flung herself onto the sofa in tears. By the time Dylan joined her she was well away, her head buried in her hands and sobbing helplessly.

"Sam, what is it?" Dylan asked anxiously sitting beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her close.

"I'm so bloody useless." She wept past any attempts at self control.

"Are you still fretting about this afternoon?" he questioned gently.

"But she's right I couldn't even get him to go to bed this evening." Sam answered woefully "I can't do anything right."

"Don't be daft, are you really telling me you're getting yourself into a state because you haven't managed to get Davey to settle one night out of about sixty." He said disbelievingly "My track record isn't nearly as good as yours. He can sense you're upset and he doesn't like it that's all. Don't turn what that stupid woman said into a self fulfilling prophecy – especially when you're his favourite person."

"What if I'm not good enough?" Sam whispered.

"You are good enough, more than good enough for me and him. We couldn't manage without you." Dylan assured her.

She smiled weakly; grateful for the moral support. It was nice when Dylan not only had faith in her he actually told her so. It had been a rare enough occurrence during their marriage. It was strange they'd never officially reconciled and yet they were getting on better now than perhaps they ever had. She did need to know where she stood though; she could not go on in this limbo any longer. She needed to know whether they were a family or if sooner or later she and Davey would be together and Dylan would be a part time Dad. For all she'd seriously considered it when Davey was ill and she was so furious with Dylan it wasn't what she wanted then and she certainly didn't want it now. All she wanted was for the three of them to be together – to be a proper family. Sam steeled herself for the hurt that was likely to follow and tried to find the right words to ask him what he wanted and how he saw them but it was hard to ask the questions when she was afraid of the answers. So much hung on him saying the right things and this was Dylan and the only thing that she could rely on was that he would probably say the wrong thing.

"Dylan," she began awkwardly, "when did you decide that we were back together? Are we back together?"

"Of course we are. Aren't we?" he thought for a while. "I'm not sure, I didn't know at the time but probably that first night in that awful Travel lodge. There was no need for you to have come at all - you could have told me where to go and stayed comfortably at home but you didn't. You dropped everything and agreed to travel hundreds of miles overnight because I asked you too even though I had no right to. You put up with me being grumpy, the cold and my uncomfortable car and you didn't make a fuss. Well not very much."

"We both had more important things to worry about than a little discomfort. Anyway I've known far worse," Sam said.

"That's what you said about that dreadful room, and then when I held you - you were so warm and soft. I remembered exactly what I'd missed. I did miss you, you know all the time." Dylan told her.

"Then why did you refuse to acknowledge me," she demanded unable to stay silent any longer. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt when I arrived in Holby? Not only didn't you want anyone to know I'm your wife you wouldn't even admit you knew me even though it was bloody obvious. Zoë thought I was your daughter."

"She what! I'm not that damn old." Dylan was clearly outraged.

"You know trying to hide the truth only makes people make up stuff that's even weirder than the truth," Sam replied sadly.

"I just hate people talking about me - about us," he answered defensively.

"It doesn't matter to me what everyone else thinks. I only care about what you think," she told him shakily. "What do you think?"

"I think despite everything you're still the only woman I ever wanted to marry," he told her " I know I'm no good with words Sam never have been but there's only ever been you."

"Then why wouldn't you fight for me - for us?" she asked tearfully.

"Because you'd already made your choice. You chose him!" he retorted clearly stung.

"No I didn't." Sam was suddenly desperate to make him understand. "I was lonely and miserable and I wanted someone but I only wanted you except you were too busy drinking. I told you about it straightaway because I thought... I hoped you'd fight to save us but you didn't so I knew I was wasting my time trying. I gave up then."

"You told Annabel that you came to Holby to be with me." Dylan said suddenly "Was that true, or did you just say it to keep Davey?"

"It was true," she admitted "I knew where you were and I asked for a south west secondment because I hoped I could somehow find a way to fix things. Then they offered me Holby, so I said yes please. You were surprised to see me but I knew you'd be there."

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked her clearly bemused by her silence.

"What could I say?" Sam answered. "You made it very clear you weren't pleased to see me. I just decided I'd gambled and lost. I knew at Christmas when you were trapped in resus that you were it for me. If you'd died in there I'd never have got over it. I tried to tell you then but you didn't want to know."

She swallowed hard, the wound he'd inflicted when he'd publicly declared her a wife in name only still stung. The hurt had been so great it had been hours before the humiliation kicked in. She'd made a public statement that she still cared and he'd rejected her in front of all their colleagues. All she'd wanted was for him to hold her but instead he'd walked away and her heart had broken all over again. She'd spent the enforced four week break while they rebuilt the ED hiding out in her flat trying desperately to rebuild her own shattered heart. It hadn't really worked all she'd managed was to regain a modicum of self control so at least no one would know she was broken. He'd undone all her hard work in seconds anyway when he'd announced to the whole Department that he'd been miserable all through their marriage. Only pride had stopped the tears then. She hadn't given a damn if she lived or died in the major incident that followed, dying would have put an end to the searing pain and eased the loneliness she'd endured for so long. There'd been many times in the past eighteen months when she would have welcomed the respite of death.

"Sam you'd just told the whole department you were my wife." Dylan replied "What was I supposed to do?"

"A hug would have been a good start. Instead you told me I had a big mouth even though you were the one who'd listed me as your next of kin. You couldn't have made it more obvious you were ashamed of me." She told him – anger beginning to rise again at the humiliating memory.

"That's not true," he denied at once.

"Isn't it?" she said challengingly.

"Of course not, I was so damn proud when you married me - I couldn't believe my luck. Yu were everything I ever wanted and I was so scared of losing you – you've always been way out of my league." Dylan explained "And I was right I did lose you. I didn't want them all to know I was such a rotten failure of a husband you'd left me because you couldn't bear to live with me."

"You didn't lose me. You pushed me away, I never wanted to leave but I didn't think I had any other choice," she reached up to caress his cheek. "Why did you think I was out of your league anyway?"

"You're nearly nine years younger than me; you were the brightest student in your year and the most beautiful. You could have had anyone you wanted. I never understood why you were with me," he stated as if it was obvious.

"Because I love you, because you're sweet when you don't think anyone will find out and a brilliant doctor even if you do infuriate the hell out if me. You never bore me and you didn't pigeonhole me as the blonde who'd never be capable of anything. Didn't it ever occur to you that I married you because I wanted to? Nobody made me. I chose to" she told him. "I'm sorry if I made you think you weren't good enough because you are good enough for me – you were always more than good enough and I'm so sorry I let you down, sorry I was ever stupid enough to think that if I had an affair it would make you realise what you stood to lose. I'm not surprised you hated me."

"I've never hated you; it wouldn't have happened if our marriage had been going well. Happily married women don't have affairs. If I'd been the husband I should have been you wouldn't have looked elsewhere but I hate him. I hate the thought of him being anywhere near you. Hate that you let him touch you. I feel sick every time I think about it." Dylan's voice had gone tight; he was pale and clammy and did indeed look as if he might be sick. "Did you love him?"

"No" she denied instantly. "I never loved him."

Ian had been good company, he was attentive and he'd made her feel as if she mattered at a time when Dylan barely acknowledged her existence but she'd never been in love with him. It had been a shallow physical thing and she'd got very little out of it. The sex had been mechanical with none of the depth of emotion she shared with her husband. Almost as soon as she'd carried out her hastily conceived plan she'd realised she'd made a huge mistake and guilt ridden she'd confessed to Dylan. He'd been hurt and angry then quite understandably he'd told her it was over and he'd never forgive her. Afterwards he'd gone on a long bender and by the time he'd sobered up she was gone. Back to the army and back into the arms of the man she'd thrown away her marriage for. If she was honest she'd only continued the unsatisfactory affair because she was lonely and loath to admit to anyone even herself that she'd destroyed her marriage for a sordid one night stand.

"Then why..." Dylan faltered

"Why what?" she prompted.

"If you don't love him, why did you go back to him?" he asked shakily.

"Because you'd made it very clear you didn't want me. It was never going to last he only wanted some fun and I've only ever loved you – in the end he knew that," she explained tearfully. "That's why I came to Holby I came back for you."

"Christ I've messed up." Dylan whispered "I'm sorry Sam. You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I should have made sure you knew."

"We both messed up," she corrected "and I'm sorry too. Can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have," Dylan reached out for her and pulled her into his lap to hold her close. "I wish none of it had ever happened but it did and what matters now is the rest of our lives. Let's try and put it all behind us."

"Before we can do that," she sucked in a deep breath still unsure whether she wanted to know the answer to this but if she was to have any peace of mind she must know. "There's something I need to ask you?"

"Anything," Dylan sounded puzzled.

"Has there," she stumbled over the words. "Has there been anyone else since we separated?"

Nausea overwhelmed her, she was suddenly sure that if there had been anyone else she didn't want to know. She wasn't at all sure she could bear it. The thought of Dylan loving anyone else hurt so badly.

"No," he sounded shocked "Sam apart from anything else we were still married – anyway if I couldn't have you I didn't want anybody else?"

"Are you sure?" she asked "I wouldn't blame you if it had. We were supposedly over."

"Of course I am," he said firmly.

"What about Zoë?" she questioned. If something had happened between them she needed to know even though it would break her heart.

"Zoë," this time he sounded incredulous "What on earth made you think there was anything between me and Zoë?"

"She's so hostile towards me, especially since we patched things up." She explained " I wondered..."

"It's nothing like that." He sounded relieved. "Zoë's just pissed off that she's had to work extra shifts and cover for you while you've been off. She shouldn't be taking it out on you though – it's not your fault. I'll have a word."

"No don't. It will only make things worse." Sam said hastily. Dylan was clearly oblivious to the other woman's interest in him and it would be pointless to tell him Zoë's hostility predated her suspension he'd simply refuse to believe it. Men usually missed things which were going on under their noses and Dylan was worse than most men.

"Is that all you wanted to know?" he asked.

"Isn't that enough?" she replied.

"More than enough," he agreed "Sam I know we needed to say all this but now we have please can we leave it in the past where it belongs and not go over and over it. I know neither of us can forget but we can try not to dwell on it. I'd rather not talk about any of it again."

"I'll try," she assented "but Dylan we've got to be better about talking about problems and not pretend they aren't there. We can't mess up again it won't just be us we hurt if there's a next time. We'll hurt Davey too and I can't risk that."

"There isn't going to be a next time," he told her firmly. "I won't let that happen. From now on it's you, me and Davey and to hell with the rest of the world."

"I'm so frightened social services won't believe it's all in the past and they'll take him away." She said nervously "I couldn't bear it."

"Social services can't take him away. Only a court can do that and they'd have to convince a judge he's at risk of significant harm and frankly I don't think they could because he's not." Dylan reassured her instantly.

"Are you sure?" she said anxiously.

"Certain" he insisted "Sam if you carry on like this you'll worry yourself into a nervous breakdown and then you won't be able to look after him."

"But..." she began.

Dylan silenced her objections by the simple expedient of leaning forward and kissing her. She stopped short in surprise then leant into his kiss, pressing closer to him and wrapping her arms around his back to pull him closer. His fingers ended up tangled in her long tousled hair and several kisses later they were both sprawled breathless on the sofa.

"I'm too old for this making out on the sofa thing." He gasped "My back won't stand it. How about we go and finish this elsewhere?"

"I believe there's a nice big bed next door," she suggested. "Will that do?"

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><p><em>I hope you've enjoyed this. As always if you do please bolster up my ego and tell me.<em>

_Thanks._

_H_


	11. Counting Blessings

_Thank you to all the lovely people who have left me helpful reviews and let me know how much they are enjoying this. I am sorry it's been such a long time since I last updated but as always life has been a bit frantic and there are never enough hours in the day to do everything I'd like to do. This is for Callie and Anny in particular who have been supportive and encouraging without nagging me and also for Rachel who has prompted me to pull my finger out. I hope you enjoy this. I warn you part of it is a bit harrowing. I apologise in advance if it upsets you._

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><p><strong>11 Counting Blessings<strong>

Sam woke up snuggled comfortably against her husband's chest and lay there contentedly listening to the comforting thump of his heart. This was exactly where she was supposed to be. She idly wondered what time it was but couldn't be bothered to move from her current position to find out. It was only just getting light and Davey wasn't stirring so it must still be early. Dylan wasn't working today so she'd just stay put and doze until she had no choice but to get up.

The previous night had been traumatic but it had helped her more than she'd thought to discuss the all too many mistakes they'd made in their ill fated marriage. At least now it was all out in the open and they both knew where they stood. She hadn't realised Dylan had it in him to be that forgiving. She'd never dared hope that he would be willing to absolve her for that particular transgression she knew her faithlessness had hurt him badly and she hadn't been at all sure he'd ever be able to move on from it. Of course she'd always known that he'd rather not ever have had to discuss the past in fact she was sure had it been left up to him he'd have swept everything under the carpet, pretended nothing had ever happened and just carried on without ever talking about any of it. She just couldn't see how they could reconstruct their marriage without facing the things that had made it implode.

"Morning" Dylan murmured sleepily in her ear.

"How is the old man's back this morning?" she queried grinning at him.

"Who are you calling old?" he demanded.

"You said it yourself last night." She reminded him nuzzling at his neck.

"I merely meant I am not a teenager anymore." Dylan said sulkily

"Were you ever?" Sam couldn't resist teasing him "I thought you were born old."

"If you're going to be like that," he muttered grumpily. "Is Davey awake?"

"Clearly not, he'd have made sure we both knew if he was," she replied in an undertone.

"Good" he reached up to touch the soft shiny hair spilling across her shoulders – revelling in the familiar silky feel. She'd never been a morning person – neither of them was but she never complained when he woke her up with gentle kisses and caresses. She pressed against him draping her arms and legs around him and snuggled as close to him as she could in the hope he'd take the hint and kiss her.

Her plan was rudely interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone beside the bed and Dylan was forced to loosen his arms as he reached out to answer it. Davey was disturbed by the phone and began to howl. Resignedly Sam sat up and gathered him into her arms trying to soothe him.

"Keogh," he barked into the receiver. The caller transpired to be a double glazing salesman and Dylan gave them short shrift for disturbing him on his day off, waking his baby and bothering them on a Saturday morning to boot.

"Ssh it's ok poppet, just a silly man on the phone trying to sell us things we don't need." Sam reassured the grumpy baby.

"He's nearly as grumpy as you are," she teased "It must be a Keogh thing."

"I'll get his bottle," Dylan got up in disgust and made for the kitchen while Sam focussed on trying to calm the irate baby. So much for the idea of a peaceful morning in bed picking up where they'd left off when they'd collapsed with exhaustion in the early hours.

Dylan reappeared with two cups of tea and Davey's bottle, then clambered back into bed. Davey calmed down as soon as he tasted the milk and peace reigned again. Sam snuggled into his side and tucked her head on his shoulder. They might as well make the most of what they could have and it was still warm and cosy in the bed.

"I could kill that salesman," Dylan muttered wrathfully.

"It's not worth it," Sam replied "Davey would probably have woken up anyway and we've plenty of time to be together."

"Hmmph," he grunted in disgust.

"Cheer up Grumpy, it could be worse? Davey might not have slept through." she suggested "What do you want to do today?"

"I was thinking," he said tentatively.

"What about?" she asked, resisting the temptation to ask if it hurt. Her husband was grumpy enough already without her winding him up anymore.

"How much stuff have you got left in your flat?" he enquired as if he hadn't heard her

"Not much, everything I need is here anyway," she replied. "Why?"

"I thought perhaps we should go and clear it. Doesn't seem much point in you paying rent for a place you're not living in unless..." he was suddenly uncertain "unless you want to keep it of course."

"I hadn't thought about it," she said truthfully. "I couldn't give notice before I signed a six month contract but it must be nearly up now. We could go and get the rest of my stuff and look at the contract. There are better things we could do with the rent money."

"We need to start a university fund for himself for a start." Dylan remarked.

"Dylan, he's only three months old. We've got years to think about that," she said in disbelief.

"Do you know how much it costs to put a child through university now?" he asked her. "if he decides on Med School or Law School that's at least five years we'll need to pay for."

"Not a clue," she replied "I know if the Army hadn't paid for me I'd still be paying for my degree now."

"Exactly," Dylan replied as if it all made perfect sense. "I am going to open him a savings account and get started."

Sam just shook her head at him and wondered how long it would be before he suggested a pension plan for their baby.

They spent the morning packing the remains of her possessions and clearing out the fridge which she had forgotten to empty. That proved to be a revolting task – she hadn't thought there was much in there but there was more than enough decaying food to turn her stomach. In the end she fled to the sitting room with Davey leaving Dylan to complete the disgusting chore. Rather than clean it – she simply arranged for contract cleaners to do a through one off clean and then the agent could have the keys back. She had no regrets about leaving the flat it had never been her home and she couldn't think of a single happy memory she had of the place. It merely been a place to sleep and in truth she hadn't slept much there either. She locked the door and walked away from the modern box without a pang. Dylan and Davey made her home now and it didn't matter where they happened to live as long as they were all together.

The rest of the weekend they spent in Dartmoor at Dylan's suggestion. It had always been a favourite haunt of theirs, Dylan had taken her there for their first very illicit weekend away when she'd still been a student and Sam had had a soft spot for the isolated moor ever since. Dervla loved it too associating the place with lots of good long walks over the moors and if she was lucky someone slipping her a forbidden scone with plenty of jam and cream. He booked their usual dog friendly hotel – an isolated former country house in the middle of the moor. The proprietor commented on their long absence but praised Davey's beauty and intelligence as much as Sam's partial heart could wish. Neither she nor Dylan corrected her assumption that he was theirs and that was why they'd been absent so long. They went for several long walks and tried out Davey's new all terrain pushchair, the ease with which it moved through mud and up hills almost reconciled Dylan to the price tag which had been close to four figures. He had bought in a fury when the other model had got stuck in the mud up on the hill and he'd had to drag it back to the Marina.

Davey obligingly dozed in his carrycot across two chairs in the hotel restaurant and allowed them to eat all three courses of their meal in peace then slept right through the night which allowed his parents to make full use of the hotel's large comfortable bed. They returned to Holby happy and relaxed and Sam felt more secure than she had in months certain that she was loved and Dylan wanted this to work as much as she did.

Going back to work after such a good weekend turned out to be even more of a wrench than Sam imagined. She'd spent Sunday evening trying to ensure that she and Davey were organised and that they'd be ready to leave on time on Monday morning. She wanted time to make sure Davey was settled in the nursery before she had to leave him with strangers for a whole day. Dylan had grumbled about having to leave before seven but she'd convinced him that they must. This wasn't really the right way to do it. She'd been reading all about it, ideally Davey should have had short periods at nursery to begin with and built up to the whole day preferably while she wasn't working so she could stay if necessary but like everything else in their lives circumstances had dictated that they weren't doing it the ideal way. When she'd fretted aloud that they were doing it wrong and maybe it was another reason they weren't good enough, Dylan had threatened to make a bonfire out of all her baby books insisting that they were no help at all and only upset her.

He had refused to have any part in taking Davey to nursery; he'd left them in the car park and gone to shut himself up in CDU. Sam knew it was because he was afraid there would be emotional drama and quite possibly tears from her and Davey and he didn't want to deal with it but she wished he'd gone with her all the same. She hated the mere thought of handing her baby over to strangers even kind well qualified ones and walking away. It would have been nice if Dylan had been there to give her a hug.

There were tears, mostly hers and she really could have done with his support when she had to leave Davey. She'd stayed as long as she dared promising him she'd be back to see soon and that he'd have a nice day with all the other babies but he'd sensed something was wrong and been clingy and fretful. Once it got to ten to eight she had no choice but to go. Davey had clutched at her neck and cried breaking her heart. The nursery nurse had had to prise him away from her and she'd left with the sound of his sobs ringing in her ears and tears pouring down her face. It was all she could do not to turn around snatch him up and take him straight back home again. She didn't want a career after all, she'd much rather stay at home and make sure Davey was happy. If he hated the nursery she would just have to tell Nick where to stick his job.

When she'd arrived in the staff room Charlie had taken one look at her, sat her down with a big mug of coffee and proffered a large box of tissues. He offered to go and find Dylan but much as she wanted Dylan's reassurance she declined the offer. Dylan would be mortified if she wept all over him and he'd probably be too embarrassed to provide the hug she desperately wanted. Tess proved more accommodating and Sam sobbed on her shoulder until Tess mildly pointed out that she was soaking her uniform. By half past eight the two senior nurses had managed to calm her down sufficiently to actually start treating patients.

A telephone call to the nursery revealed that Davey had stopped crying and was now having a nap but it didn't really provide the reassurance that she needed. Nick took one look at her when she emerged from the staffroom and diplomatically did not comment on the time. He had put her on cubicles and told her she'd be there for at least a week as he wanted her to have a chance to reacclimatise gradually. If she was honest she'd rather have been thrown in at the deep end in resus then she wouldn't have had time to think about Davey. As it was she couldn't think about anything else. She hated the thought of him being miserable and telephoned the nursery every opportunity she had just to check that he was ok.

At lunchtime she rushed over to see him unable to bear the thought of not seeing him for hours. His face lit up when he saw her and ignoring the nursery managers warnings that she would unsettle him, Sam scooped him up for a cuddle and insisted on giving him his lunchtime bottle herself. It meant that she had no time for her own lunch but she didn't care. It was far more important to ensure that Davey didn't think that he had been abandoned than to eat. This time he didn't cry when she left him, ensconced in a bouncy chair playing with a mobile. Sam hoped this meant he was learning that when she had to leave him she always came back.

The afternoon dragged on and on. She treated two minor asthma attacks, a sprained ankle, greenstick fracture, sore throat and a suspected appendicitis, there was nothing interesting or exciting and she was frankly bored. Although she'd never have believed it three months ago she actually preferred being at home with a baby well their baby anyway. Promptly at 6, she left the ED to collect him. The nursery had been very firm about lateness explaining that children must always be picked up on time. The manager had gone on to tell her that they charged an extra £25 for every 15 minutes that you were late and after 30 minutes they called social services. It didn't sound a very flexible arrangement for a hospital nursery where of necessity the parents would often run late but they needed convenient childcare so Sam had signed the contract anyway wondering if the erratic and unpredictable hours worked by medics were a good money-spinner for whoever ownd the place.

Dylan wasn't finished but she decided that she would bring Davey back with her and they'd wait for him together. He was still busy in his beloved CDU when Sam returned with Davey, so she took the baby into the staffroom and curled up with him on the sofa. Davey snuggled into her chest and she stroked his head.

"I missed you," she told him lovingly. "We're just not used to this are we?"

"Going to turn into a clockwatcher?" Zoë asked cynically from the doorway.

"Sorry, Sam looked at Zoë in surprise.

"First day back after three months, you started late took a full break and then you rushed out on the dot of six. You used to be a dedicated professional," the other woman said sourly.

"I still am," Sam was seething.

"Doesn't look that way," Zoë said the disbelief evident in her voice.

"What have I ever done to you?" Sam asked her finally exasperated. "You've had your knife into me since Christmas and I've no idea why?"

"You had to come here and spoil everything," Zoë retorted. "It was going so well until then."

Sam looked at her "I don't know what you mean?"

"You've got bloody everything do you know that." Zoë snapped

"Are you mad?" Sam asked goaded into a response.

"Look at you sitting there all smug" Zoë said spitefully. "Sam the golden girl who didn't get struck off after all. There you are happily reconciled with your husband who just happens to worship the ground you walk on. You've got Nick eating out of your hand and you get to have your ready-made family. It makes me sick watching you cuddling your instant baby as if you're really his mother. No morning sickness, long labours or stretch marks for lovely Dr Nicholls just a beautiful baby boy delivered in perfect working order. How do you do it?"

Sam just stared at Zoë wondering if she was quite sane. That tirade was hardly the action of a rational professional. Where had all that anger and hatred come from? Had the older woman really cared about Dylan that much? Dylan had assured her that nothing had ever happened and she'd believed him. Mind you just because nothing had happened as far as Dylan was concerned didn't mean Dr Hanna hadn't felt something. Her husband was so obtuse he frequently didn't realise what was going on under his nose. Maybe Dylan had broken her heart and not even noticed it.

"Strangely enough," she snapped "the last three months haven't been a walk in the park. I love Davey to bits but don't think it's easy to become someone's parent overnight."

"You've no idea how lucky you are?" Zoë spat. "And if that wasn't enough we're all going to have to pick up the slack because Dr Jordan's darling has to look after her baby and you know delicate little Sam faints if it's all too much for her."

Sam was fighting to control her temper but only because she knew from experience that any sort of tantrum would frighten Davey and the last thing she wanted to do was upset him. He came first had to and if it really upset him her being back at work then she'd resign. She was still trying to work out what on earth she could say when she realised both Linda and Lenny were in the room.

"That was uncalled for," it was Linda who spoke.

"Hello Davey boy," Lenny was clearly trying to change the subject. He bent over to talk to the baby who was still awake and alert taking in all the new people in the room. "He's grown again hasn't he."

"Never stops," Sam said relieved to find something innocuous to say "Probably because he never stops eating. He grows out of his clothes so fast I'm always buying him new ones."

"I'll bet Dylan loves that," Linda put in "He was moaning that he'd grown out of his basket and a cot cost as much as an adults bed the other day."

"That was a very painful experience for his credit card." Sam was unable to stop herself laughing "You are expensive aren't you?" she caressed Davey's head again. She didn't begrudge a penny they spent on their boy and although his complaints were loud and vociferous she knew Dylan didn't really either.

Lenny began playing peekaboo with Davey. This was a favourite game and the tiny boy was all smiles and giggles at once. Sam wondered why Lenny didn't specialise in Peads he had far more of an affinity with children than he did with adults. Children liked him and responded to him, he was another of her colleagues who really ought to have children of his own. It was weird that he was so resolutely single, although once during a quiet night shift they'd gone outside for a ten minute break and he'd said something about a girl who got away.

She sensed Lenny didn't talk much about the things that mattered and he'd said little then but she'd got the idea whoever she was she'd been special and Lenny had been badly hut. If he had loved that girl whoever she was as much as she loved Dylan maybe it wasn't so surprising that he was still alone. For all that Mr Jordan didn't think much of Lenny and she knew Dylan thought he was irresponsible Lenny was kind and a good friend and he wasn't a bad doctor either. Davey clearly liked him and they said children were a good judge of character. Davey was in a very happy mood, gurgling away at Lenny's unselfconscious idiocy. The antics of the pair of them had everyone else laughing too.

"I thought this was a hospital not a crèche," Zoë snapped clearly very irritated.

There was a sudden silence as everyone turned to look at the senior doctor.

"I'll wait for Dylan in the car if Davey's a problem," Sam said quietly. She scooped up the baby and her belongings and headed for the door. "Please will someone tell him where we are."

"There's no need for that." Linda sounded upset "he's not hurting anyone."

There was another awkward silence, there was no way of knowing how it would have ended if Nick, Dylan and Tom hadn't walked through the door.

"How was nursery David?" Nick asked him as if he was actually expecting an answer. "Did you survive a whole day without your Mummy?"

"He had a better day than I did." Sam said wryly. She was well aware her constant telephone calls had not gone unnoticed. "He had a nice long nap apparently. I wish I had."

"It was bound to be a bit of a shock to your system coming back?" Tom remarked "Three months of lazing at home cuddling a baby is a doddle compared with this."

"You…" Sam glared at him

"Got you going didn't I," Tom grinned at her.

"You got off lightly," Dylan informed him "Last week I dared to suggest I'd had a difficult day while she'd been at home with Davey and my God she made me regret it."

Davey grinned broadly as soon as he heard Dylan's voice and shrieking in delight he stretched out his arms towards his Uncle. Sam held her breath, when Davey did that at home – usually when Dylan arrived home he would scoop him up and throw him in the air but she wasn't at all sure he'd do that in front of his colleagues. She hoped he wouldn't reject the baby to avoid showing his feelings in public because Davey was old enough to be upset by it and it would break her heart. She sighed with relief when he reached out and lifted Davey out of her arms tossing the crowing baby high in the air which delighted him and terrified her. She was terrified every time he did it. She trusted him with their boy of course she did and Dylan never actually took his hands off the infant but it would be so easy for him to slip out of Dylan's grasp and be hurt. Davey had no fear at all – he loved it when his Uncle played with him and he gurgled and chortled in his Uncle's arms.

"When that child is sick on you," Zoë said sourly "don't complain."

"He should be safe enough," Sam replied icily "The nursery said his last bottle was hours ago. I'm surprised he's not demanding his dinner actually."

"Shall we take you home and feed you monster?" Dylan asked the baby rhetorically. "We don't want you telling everyone we starve you. Ready Sam?"

By way of an answer she gathered together the miscellaneous bags containing her modest belongings and the vast number of items Davey needed to get through a day. She couldn't help the small glow of pleasure that surged through her when Dylan slid his free arm around her waist and drew her closer to him and Davey. She hoped that Zoë was watching and realised that the three of them were a family, they belonged together and nothing was going to come between them now.

"You managed to survive a whole day without Davey then," Dylan teased on their way back to the car. "And you only phoned the nursery about 320 times to see how he was."

"He's so little," she said as if in mitigation. "He cried when I left him this morning."

"I know," Dylan admitted slightly shamefacedly.

"How?" she demanded at once.

"They told me when I rang at quarter past eight to make sure I didn't have to go and drag you away," he confessed as if to a crime

"You phoned the nursery?" she said incredulously

"Of course. I was worried you'd still be there sobbing your heart out in the middle of the baby room," Dylan explained.

"Why didn't you come with us then?" she asked him "I'd have liked it if you had."

"I knew you'd both cry and I can't bear it when you cry Sam. I'd probably have told you to tell Nick to stuff his job and take Davey home and it wouldn't have helped."

"I nearly did," She admitted. "I hated leaving him there this morning."

"If he doesn't like it we'll find something else." Dylan said calmly "How about a nice Swedish au pair."

"Absolutely not." Sam replied at once "We could get a nice woman in her fifties with lots of experience."

"Spoilsport!" he retorted.

"I know all about you and your weakness for much younger blondes Grumpy." She responded at once.

"Only you," he said quietly tightening the arm around her waist affectionately.

"Are you sure?" she asked the old insecurity rearing its head again.

"You think I make a habit of risking my career for a student?" Dylan replied.

"Do you ever regret it," she asked soberly.

She often wondered if Dylan sometimes wished he hadn't thrown it all up for the medical student who'd been placed in his care. She'd fallen hard and fast for him but she'd never quite figured out what he'd seen in her and why he'd wanted her so much he'd been content to chuck in his career which had been in its ascendency and rusticate as a country GP for years just so they could be together. None of his colleagues had understood then and she had a suspicion none of their current colleagues could fathom it out either. Who knew how far Dylan could have gone without her to hold him back.

"Regret what?" he said sounding puzzled.

"Throwing it all away so we could get married?" she asked.

"Every day," he assured her deadpan. "Don't be daft Sam. I'm hardly cut out for teaching. The only pupil I ever had ended up in my bed – I don't think anyone will ever trust me with another. And if I had Jordan's job I'd go spare, all that being nice to people. You are far more important to me than that stupid job ever was."

"I've often worried you resented... wished you hadn't" she tailed off

"Don't be daft Sam I've never wished that." He reassured her instantly "How about we go home now? There are better places to stand around talking than the car park. Poor Davey's shivering."

"Is he?" She asked anxiously reaching out to feel his small hands. The tiny fingers seemed warm enough probably because the baby had sensibly stuffed them into Dylan's shirt to stay warm. Davey really was rather bright Sam thought proudly. "He's not – you made that up."

"I did," Dylan agreed "But I'm cold and hungry and I want to go home and cuddle my wife on the sofa."

* * *

><p>Leaving Davey did get easier. On the third day, Sam managed to leave him without any tears on her part anyway. She also began to believe the nursery manager's assurance that Davey stopped crying the moment he couldn't see her anymore. The phone calls reduced to two or three a day and one day she was busy with a patient who suddenly deteriorated in minors and had to let Dylan go and pick Davey up. He might have demurred but the thought of the large fine was very persuasive. After that he could occasionally be persuaded to drop Davey off or pick him up and thus far he had managed not to mortally offend the nursery staff. Slowly Sam began to relax about leaving him and even found she was enjoying her job again.<p>

The following week, Nick allocated Sam back to resus which pleased her even though she was working with Zoë which did not. She was delighted Nick had faith in her ability to cut it in resus after such a long break and she knew she could learn plenty from the older woman who whatever her faults was a highly skilled and very experienced practitioner but she preferred working with Nick or even Dylan. Zoë was clearly still furious with her and Sam felt for Linda and Scarlett who were both innocent parties in all of this because by the afternoon the atmosphere in resus was appalling. Neither she nor Zoë said a word to the other that wasn't strictly necessary, Linda was chattering away nervously trying to cover the awkwardness and Scarlett looked as though she might cry. Sam wished there was something she could do but she knew she didn't even begin to have the social skills to smooth everything over and anything she said would probably make it ten times worse so she concentrated on treating the patients as well as she could and counting the hours until she could escape and go home. She hated feeling that way about the job she loved but working with Zoë was nearly intolerable. Something was going to have to change but she had no idea what or indeed how to change anything. There was nothing she could do if Zoë had carried a torch for her husband. He was her husband and she had not been wrong to salvage their marriage.

They all heard the screaming before they saw the patient. As the double doors to Paeds resusc swung open the first discernible sound was the terrified wailing. The trolley with its tiny occupant accompanied by Jeff, Dixie and a hysterical young woman entered a split second later.

"This is Toby Scott aged three months found unconscious in his cot by Mum about 20 minutes ago. No detectable pulse or respiration, he's had two of adrenaline and one of atropine. CPR initiated by Mum at home," Dixie reported briskly.

The words sent icy cold fingers of dread spiralling straight to the pit of Sam's stomach and acid rose in her throat. Even as she spoke Jeff and Dixie were sliding the limp blue baby onto the trolley. Linda and Charlie who'd appeared from nowhere rushed to hook him up to the monitors and begin getting a line in. Sam began a rapid assessment of the tiny child and out of the corner of her eye she saw Zoë drawing up the various drugs that would be required only Scarlett stood frozen with horror and did nothing at all.

"He was fine when Mum put him down. Query SID's" Dixie continued.

Her words set up a renewed burst of wailing from the woman and after a quick glance from Linda; Scarlett managed to pull herself together and led her away towards the relative privacy of the relatives' room. Sam was relieved to see her go. No mother should see what they were about to inflict on this baby.

She began CPR on the moribund baby already sure it was too late. The skin of his tiny hand, was cold and clammy and he was terrifyingly floppy. She and Zoë promptly forgot that they couldn't stand each other and both began waging a hopeless battle for the baby who was already lost.

"You keep going Sam, I'll intubate," Zoë said calmly she effortlessly slid the tiny tube into the impossibly narrow airway.

Linda carried on frantically bagging him while Sam massaged the small chest with two fingers desperately hoping for a miracle.

"I'll try defibrillating," she said desperately, placing the electrodes on Toby's tiny chest. "Charlie one of adrenaline and then if you could get those bloods to the lab. Charging 200. Clear."

Neither of them gave their earlier bad feeling another thought as they worked over the lifeless form of Toby Scott who was destined never to grow old. Sam's whole consciousness was filled with the small figure in front of her and the poor woman whose worst nightmare was about to come true.

They continued working feverishly over the small body, long after they all knew there was no chance of getting little Toby back to lead a long and useful life.

"Sam, it's been over an hour since he was found, don't you think it's time to stop." Charlie asked quietly, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room.

She paused in his desperate attempts to bring the fragile body back, then after considering his words for a moment or two, looked at Zoë who nodded. She conceded defeat her shoulders slumped and hands stilled.

"No output for 45 minutes that we know of, his had four of adrenaline, two of atropine, pupils fixed and dilated." Zoë said despondently. "Is everyone agreed?"

They all nodded sadly, the tears apparent in both Linda's eyes, Charlie deliberately turned away and busied himself tidying equipment. Zoë looked awful Sam thought noting the haunted look in her eyes. Of course they all hated to lose a patient especially when it was a child and SID's cases were always the worst but this time Zoë looked like she felt.

"Time of death 16:10. Thank you everybody." Zoë's voice was even harsher than usual.

"Would you like me to tell his mother?" Linda offered a split second before Charlie volunteered for the unpleasant task.

"No I'll do it." Sam said "My patient – my job." she trailed wearily out of resus shoulders slumped and head down, she'd have given anything not have lost this patient. It was all just too close to home. She turned at the door of the relatives' room "What's her name Charlie?"

"Emily. Emily Scott." Charlie replied heavily.

Sam stared at the young woman through the glass panel; she couldn't be more than twenty, far too young to face what was coming to her. She was still crying the tears streaming down her face, but the wailing had stopped perhaps from sheer exhaustion to be replaced by silent sobs. Scarlett had her arm round her murmuring meaningless platitudes that neither of them believed, but when she saw Sam at the door she got up and opened it.

She stepped through it in silence and tried to think of a kind way to tell this woman what she already knew in her heart. That her precious baby wouldn't be going home with her. Emily Scott took one look at Sam's face and she knew. The scream went through her like a knife; there was something unearthly in that terrible grief-stricken scream.

She walked towards her and gently put her hand on the other woman's shoulder trying to convey the sympathy she found so hard to put into words. After all what could she say? There were no words that would make any difference. Emily looked up at her with tear-drenched eyes that silently implored her to tell her it was all going to be alright. She inhaled deeply futilely attempting to find a way to make the unbearable bearable.

"He's not ... is he?" Emily spoke first.

"Emily. I'm really very sorry, we did everything we could but Toby died a short time ago." Sam explained as gently as she could.

"No! No ... Not my Toby! Not my baby!" Emily cried her face contorting in agony.

Emily collapsed on the floor in a shuddering heap and Sam just stood there feeling useless. She watched as Scarlett knelt on the floor beside the distraught woman and began coaxing her to her feet and to sip a glass of water.

Suddenly aware of the tears slipping down her own cheeks Sam turned and fled, desperate to conceal herself in the ladies loos before anyone saw what a wreck she was. She barely made it into the cubicle and locked herself before she was sick. Once the bout of vomiting was over she sat down on the loo seat and buried her face in her hands willing the inconvenient tears to stop. It wasn't like her to get so involved with a patient. She hated losing them but she didn't cry about it for goodness sake.

It was different now, all she could think about was Davey and how she'd feel if she went to lift him out of his cot one morning and he was the one who was cold, limp and blue. She wasn't at all sure she'd be able to bear it. When she'd thought she'd lost Dylan forever it had hurt but if anything happened to Davey she wasn't at all sure she could carry on.

"Sam" she was aware of Zoë's voice outside "Sam you can't cry in the ladies forever. Come out."

Sam begged to differ she was sure she could quite easily sob in the toilets until the end of her shift. "Go away," she said as firmly as she could manage.

"Sam if you don't open this door, first I will get Big Mac to open it for you and then I'll drag you out if I have to." Zoë said resolutely rattling the door. "I'm not going away until you come out."

Reluctantly Sam slid the lock back and emerged. A red eyed Zoë was standing by the sinks looking at her.

"Happy now," she said sulkily.

"You might want to wash your face before you go out in public," Zoë remarked thoughtfully.

Sam glanced at herself in the mirror she was a wreck. Her hair was coming down, her eyes were red and swollen and her nose was twice its usual size. She splashed her face with cold water and regretted that her hairbrush was in her locker.

"Coffee I think," Zoë said calmly. "Come on."

"What about the patients?" Sam asked.

"Nick, Dylan and Lenny are coping. Well Nick and Dylan are. Linda's sobbing on Lenny's shoulder or she was last time I saw her."

"Oh," somehow Sam couldn't think of anything to say.

Zoë waited until they were both sitting in Nick's office a cup of coffee in hand before saying anything at all, Sam braced herself for the bollocking on unprofessional behaviour that was surely about to come.

"You know there was nothing you could do don't you." Zoë said reassuringly. "That baby was dead before he was brought in."

"We had to try," Sam cried horrified.

"Of course we had to try," Zoë agreed "but you know as well as I do that with SIDS the chances of a successful resuscitation are negligible. It was too late. It was probably already too late when his Mum found him. It's not your fault Sam."

"I ... every time I looked at him all I could see was Davey," she admitted feeling the treacherous tears welling up again. "If it was..."

"I know," Zoë said gently "Why don't you drink up that coffee, mop up with Nick's tissues then go across to the nursery and see him."

"You don't mind?" Sam asked her amazed. Last week Zoë had been livid because she'd gone to fetch Davey promptly at the end of her shift now here she was encouraging her to disappear in the middle of her shift.

"I'm aware you aren't going to be fit for anything until you've seen for yourself he's alright." Zoë said dryly. "Nick won't mind."

"Thank you," Sam replied wondering at the sudden change of heart. Not that she was complaining. Life would be a lot more comfortable if Zoë stopped resenting her and Davey.

They sat silently for a while, both lost in contemplation. Sam drained her coffee scrubbed at her eyes with a handful of Nick's tissues and stood up to leave.

"I'm sorry," Zoë said abruptly.

"What for?" Sam asked in surprise.

She was aware that Zoë had plenty to apologise for but she hadn't expected her to admit it or to make any expression of regret.

"I've been a jealous witch and taken it out on you and it wasn't fair. None of it was your fault." Zoë confessed reluctantly.

"I don't understand." Sam was completely puzzled "Dylan said that nothing..."

"This isn't about Dylan." Zoë interrupted hastily "It's been obvious ever since you arrived on the scene he's only got eyes for you. I admit I never dreamed the two of you were married. You're such a baby for a start but any thoughts I might have had in that direction went as soon as I knew you were. Married men are way too much hassle."

"What then?" Sam asked trying to work out why Zoë who was glamorous, popular, talented and second only to Nick in the ED would envy her.

"I can't have children," Zoë said abruptly "And you just had Davey drop into your lap when there's no reason you and Dylan can't have half a dozen of your own. I resented you and I'm sorry it's not your fault."

Sam was speechless, she'd never imagined it would have nothing to do with Dylan and everything to do with Davey. She tried to think of something appropriate to say. Now that she had Davey she couldn't begin to imagine how painful it must be to know that you'd never know how it was to hold your own child, except of course Davey wasn't really hers. She hadn't given birth to him even if he was hers in every other way that mattered. She considered telling Zoë about the baby that wasn't meant to be then discarded the idea. Even if it made Zoë realise her life was far from the charmed one she imagined it to be she couldn't tell her about that particular broken dream. It was still a private pain she could only share with Dylan.

"I'm sorry," she said awkwardly "I didn't know."

"How could you." Zoë pasted on a smile. "Now go and see that baby of yours before we breach the four hour target on all our patients."

Sam went grateful to be spared more conversation; she really couldn't cope with anymore emotional discussion today. She just wanted to see for herself that her baby was all right. She hurried across the car park to the nursery and disregarding Davey's key worker's protests that he'd just gone to sleep she scooped the baby out if his cot sank down in an easy chair and held him close breathing in his soft baby scent. Davey didn't seem hugely bothered about being picked up he snuggled into the crook of her arm and dozed off again. She watched him sleeping more grateful than she could even begin to express that her baby was alive and safe in her arms.

* * *

><p><em>I hope that was worth waiting for. If you think it was please bolster my fragile ego and let me know. Thanks. <em>


	12. The Inquisition

_Thank you to all the lovely people who have taken the time to review this or make it a favourite story. I do appreciate the encouragement. Special thanks as always to Callie and Anny for always being there to discuss ideas with even in the early hours. It seems writing and sleep deprivation go together especially if you work full time which alas I do. I know this part has been a long time in coming over a month and I'm grateful for people's patience. As always real life keeps getting in the way of fiction. I hope you enjoy this and think it was worth waiting for._

_H_

* * *

><p><strong>12. The Inquisition<strong>

She wasn't aware how long she cradled the baby against her, but eventually she was aware of Dylan appearing behind her.

"Thought you'd got lost," he remarked sliding an arm around her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Zoë said you had a rough afternoon."

She gave him a wan smile "You could say that."

"SIDs babies are always hard," he said reassuringly stroking her hair.

"I know but somehow it was worse this time. It's not so long ago I was scared we'd lose Davey and I...I couldn't bear it." She admitted turning her face into his chest to hide the tears

"It didn't happen Sam, he's fine." Dylan comforted her. "Come on put him down and come back to work. You've another hour before you finish and Nick's patience won't last forever."

"Did he send you to get me?" she asked. For all Zoe had said he wouldn't mind maybe Nick had decided she wasn't pulling her weight.

"No, last thing he wants is to be a second doctor down. I slipped out while his back was turned. Wanted to make sure you were all right." Dylan produced a rather crumpled tissue "I'll put his Lordship back in the cot and you'd better mop up. You've got mascara on your nose."

She pulled away and while Dylan put the sleeping baby back in the cot she scrubbed inelegantly at her face with the tissue. "It's on your shirt too – sorry."

"I'd make a complaint if I were you," he suggested.

"Sorry?" Sam was totally puzzled.

"Trades descriptions act. Didn't that stuff claim to be waterproof?" Dylan replied.

Sam managed a faint giggle "I'm surprised there was any left for your shirt. I thought I'd lost it all already."

"Come on lets go back before Nick sends out a search party." Dylan put an arm round her waist and steered her out of the door and back towards the ED where he knew the waiting times were getting out of hand. Hopefully by now Lenny would have managed to console Linda and they'd both be back doing their jobs.

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><p>Early one Saturday morning in June, Sam was out with Davey walking Dervla along the tow path to give Dylan a chance to sleep. He'd rolled in at 7:30 after what was supposed to be the worst shift of all 3pm to 3am – the one they all fought not to work (and she was mostly excused now because of the difficulties of getting anyone to look after Davey for such anti social hours) and only paused to throw all his clothes on the floor before rolling into bed without bothering to eat or drink.<p>

Sam had been in the kitchen giving Davey his breakfast and feeding Dervla. She was trying not to mind that Dylan had barely deigned to say two words to her. She knew it was silly to feel hurt because he'd had the shift from hell and was too exhausted to string a sentence together and he had attempted to kiss her cheek even if he had missed and kissed her ear instead. She had her work cut out with Davey who was inconsolable because Dylan had not picked him up and swung him high in the air when he'd got home. In Davey's world his Uncle always stopped to play with him and he was totally confused when he didn't. As a result he fussed and whined and Dervla was sulking because Dylan had ignored her too. In despair Sam had decided to take both her petulant charges out for a walk in the hope it would improve their mood and failing that at least the boat would be quiet enough that Dylan could get some sleep and might wake up in a more amenable mood.

They strolled along the tow path for about an hour, Dervla had perked up as soon as she got outside and Davey was small enough that he quickly forgot that he was upset and enjoyed being outside. He gurgled away happily in his baby sling and was clearly delighted when on impulse she tried putting him in the baby swing in the small children's playground further along the path. He was a little too small for the swing so she had to keep a firm hold on him; aside from anything else although he was trying hard to sit up he still couldn't manage it without support, but he loved the motion of the swing and whinged when it was time to go home.

Sam's mood had improved with the fresh air and exercise too so she was feeling more benign towards Dylan, after all he had worked hard all night and he was exhausted. She popped into the Marina Deli on the way home and bought ground coffee, fresh rolls, cheese and Parma ham for a late lunch. It was one of his favourite meals and afterwards she'd try and coax him to go out for the afternoon. Dylan was always more amenable when he was well fed. He and Davey were pretty similar in that respect.

When she got close to the boats she saw an unfamiliar car and a smartly dressed woman clutching a briefcase and file walking down their gangplank. Sam hurried over wondering who was visiting at such an unearthly hour on a Saturday morning.

"Mrs Keogh?" the woman asked.

"Yes." she replied wondering who the hell she was calling her Mrs Keogh, hardly anyone called her that and what she was doing on the doorstep at before 9am. Normal people didn't make calls at that time and if they'd been working she'd have found everybody was out anyway.

"I'm Jennie Murray from Holby Social Services I'm here to carry out a home visit and assessment," she explained. "You should have got a letter last week."

"We didn't" Sam said shortly. "As you can see we weren't expecting anyone. You'd better come in."

She led the social worker into the sitting room and immediately wished she hadn't. The curtains weren't open yet and it smelt of last night's takeaway. She switched on the light and ushered her to the sofa, tipping three magazines and an empty diet coke can on to the floor in the process.

She carefully put Davey into his bouncy chair and handed him his favourite rattle in the hope it would keep him quiet while she woke Dylan.

"I'm afraid my husband worked all night last night." Sam apologised wondering as she did so why she was apologising for the fact that Dylan had been patching up the cream of Holby after their drunken Friday night out. "Excuse me one moment while I go and wake him up."

Dylan was sprawled right across the bed sound asleep, he still looked exhausted and she really didn't want to wake him. He'd not had much more than an hour in bed. Very gently she put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. "Dylan, Dylan. I need you to wake up."

Dylan woke with a start and upset his glass of water on his pillow as he groped for the alarm clock and then when he thumped the snooze button and the noise continued reached for the telephone beside the bed. He swore loudly and knocked the phone onto the floor. He was puzzled when despite being knocked off the hook the noise carried on. Eventually his sleepy brain registered that the noise must be coming from somewhere else. He rubbed his eyes in disgust then looked straight at her through sleep clouded eyes.

"Go away Sam." He mumbled groggily "need to sleep."

"You can't sleep," she said urgently "someone from social services is here she wants to interview us and inspect the house. She doesn't seem to get that you worked all night. I think she thinks you're a lazy pig. Please Grumpy get up and be nice."

"Go and make them go away it's the middle of the night." He mumbled sleepily "I'm still tired."

"Dylan you have to get up. This woman is here to see if we're fit to look after Davey. What will she think if you don't get up?" Sam hissed.

Dylan pulled the pillow over his head and mumbled incoherently. "Tell her to come back later. It's too early."

"I can't. Dylan you must get up now," she insisted leaning over him to remove the pillow.

Still half asleep Dylan reached up and made a clumsy grab for her attempting to pull her onto the bed with him. Taken by surprise she overbalanced and fell on top of him. He promptly wrapped a sleepy arm around her and pressed a very inexpert kiss on her nose.

"Stay and have a cuddle," he suggested. "I missed you last night."

"Dylan how many times do I have to tell you, there is a woman from Holby Social Services in the sitting room?" Sam snapped "She gets to decide if we keep Davey or not. The last thing we can do right now is go back to bed in the middle of the morning."

"Just a quick..." he entreated her.

"No!" she said firmly. "Now is not the time."

"Spoilsport," he replied petulantly.

Goaded beyond belief Sam stood up and snatched the covers off him. "Get up – you lazy oaf. If you don't get out of bed right now and behave like a civilised human being instead of a grouch. I swear I will never forgive you." She hissed sibilantly in his ear.

Something in her tone must have got through to her semi comatose husband because he obediently stumbled out of bed and into his dressing gown rubbing his eyes. "Sorry Sam I just need to sleep."

"I know." She said relenting a little. Poor Dylan had barely been in bed for an hour and normally she would have been quite happy to get back into their nice cosy bed and snuggle up with him assuming Davey would let them but not now. It was cruel to expect him to get up and behave but what choice did she have. "Look if you play nicely, maybe when she's gone we can have a cuddle but not now. I'll make you some coffee; I bought some of that extra strong stuff you like."

Sam went back into the sitting room and smiled sweetly at the social worker for all the world as if she had just coaxed her husband out of his bed with a tender kiss and soft words rather than bullying him awake. "Would you like tea or coffee Ms Murray" she asked politely.

"Coffee would be lovely Mrs Keogh," the annoyingly nice woman murmured.

Sam squirmed she was well aware that the woman's eyes were all seeing. Doubtless she had already clocked the chaos from the previous night. It had been the shift from hell and she'd been so tired by the time she'd got Davey to sleep she'd ordered a takeaway then quite literally fallen into bed herself and done nothing about the mess meaning to sort it out this morning. God knows what social services would say about the standard of her housekeeping. It wasn't as if she'd ever been domesticated but she did usually manage a minimum level of cleanliness and tidiness but today the room fell far short of even that.

She opened the curtains as she spoke and let daylight flood the room, bright sunlight poured in and the full horror of the mess she'd not bothered to tidy last night hit her afresh. Last night's Indian takeaway was still in evidence on the table together with at least two days of unwashed crockery and the floor was littered with shoes, medical journals, clothes some clean and some not and a selection of Davey's toys. This was no way for social services to see their home. She'd have preferred at least a week's warning to attack the place or possibly engage contract cleaners. Dylan had never really been one for housework either and Davey had just added to the chaos of their lives.

Deciding to make the best of it she hurried into the kitchen to make the coffee. If only she'd bought some cakes or nice pastries when she was at the Deli but she and Dylan had decided in the week they were eating far too many of the Deli's nice baking and agreed they'd only buy it on Sundays from now on. She hunted out some biscuits instead, which she hastily arranged on a plate, sure that eating them straight from the packet as she and Dylan usually did was not the done thing in polite circles. She found herself wishing for possibly the first and only time in her adult life that she had a doily to put them on. She was fairly sure that was the kind of thing proper housewives did.

She racked her brains trying to remember how her aunt had served the coffee at the committee meetings and Bridge parties she was forever holding. She'd spent many school holidays with Aunt Veronica and her aunt had always coerced her into handing round at the interminable events. She found a tray (Aunt Veronica would have had a tray cloth but Ms Murray would just have to do without) and carefully placed the coffee pot, plate of biscuits, three of the best cups and saucers and suddenly recalling her aunt's beautifully laid table found a jug and sugar basin instead of putting the milk bottle and packet of Tate and Lyle on the tray. She had a suspicion it was the first time she'd ever used the porcelain coffee service one of Dylan's Great Aunts had given them as a wedding present. Doubtless when Ms Murray usually interviewed potential adoptive parents the houses shone and smelled of lemon or lavender polish and she was plied with homemade cake. Ms Murray would be lucky to get an indifferent plain supermarket biscuits here. She and Dylan had eaten all the chocolate ones in front of the TV on Wednesday night and she hadn't been shopping for ages.

She was serving Ms Murray's coffee regretting that she had no cream which she remembered from Aunt Veronica's bridge parties was what she should be offering with coffee when Dylan ambled into the room looking distinctly the worse for wear. Sam was acutely aware that he had simply tugged yesterday's jeans and shirt on, his feet were bare, his hair was standing up on end and he hadn't shaved.

"Dylan this is Jennie Murray from social services. Ms Murray this is my husband." Sam made the introductions quickly.

"Pleased to meet you Dr Keogh," the social worker replied politely.

"Wish I could say the same," Dylan said sourly. "Do you normally visit people without warning?"

"I'm sorry," Sam put in hastily "Dylan's been working all night he didn't get home until an hour and a half ago. I'm afraid he's not very awake yet."

"I don't quite understand why you're here," Dylan said bluntly.

Sam winced this was not the way to impress the social worker. They needed her to write a favourable report or they might just as well give up. There were going to be enough black marks from the tip in here and if she saw the kitchen and bathroom… She made up her mind there and then that tomorrow she was finding a cleaner. Although she too was wondering what the social worker was doing there? Much as it went against the grain, they'd taken the solicitors advice and waited to apply to adopt Davey.

"We were advised by your sister's solicitor that you had parental responsibility for Davey. You know of course that it is a legal requirement for anyone with parental responsibility for a child to notify social services that the child is residing with them."

"Of course," Dylan replied smoothly. "Mr Torley our solicitor assured us he would see to all the formalities. He sent me a copy of the letter he sent you months ago. Didn't you receive it?"

"We did," Ms Murray replied "it arrived with us some weeks ago but as I am sure you will appreciate we have a heavy case load and must prioritise those cases where we know the child is at risk."

Sam decided it was time to intervene before Dylan said something very rude and alienated the woman completely. "Of course," she agreed with a weak smile hoping that social services leaving Davey with them for nearly five months without supervision or intervention was a good sign. At the back of her mind she couldn't stop thinking about the battle Linda had had to get custody of her niece and nephew and Linda had done nothing wrong.

"Remind me, how long has ... excuse me I don't seem to have a note of baby's name" Ms Murray asked consulting her records in a perplexed way

"David" Dylan said coldly "his name is David but we call him Davey."

"How long has Davey been living with you?" the woman continued having the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Davey was a day old when Mollie died." Sam said emphasising his name "he's been with us ever since so almost nineteen weeks."

"So you didn't anticipate having to care for a baby?" the social worker said sweetly.

"No," Dylan said baldly "I didn't know my sister was pregnant let alone that she was dying."

"So it was a shock." Ms Murray asked.

"Of course it was a shock," Dylan retorted "The first I knew of it was when her consultant met me in the hospital and told me she was end stage and I had a nephew."

"Didn't you have a good relationship with your sister?"Ms Murray probed a little more.

"Mollie disapproved of conventional medicine." Dylan replied "I suspect she didn't tell me because I would have tried to persuade her to make different choices."

"But she asked you to care for her son anyway" the social worker said - there was a faint hint of disbelief in her tone.

"She knew we would look after him," Sam interjected before Dylan could say a word. "And of course we have. He's been ours ever since Mollie gave him to me in the hospital."

"Would you say you are managing well?" Ms Murray probed again.

"As well as anyone does." Sam said trying to work out what this woman's agenda was. "I think anyone finds it a culture shock when they have a new baby to look after for the first time. The only difference is most people get nine months to get used to the idea and we didn't."

"But you think you're coping." This time there was a definite hint of disbelief in the social workers voice.

"Of course we are." Sam said indignantly.

"Dr Keogh I understand you work very long hours. Does that mean that Mrs Keogh is David's primary carer?" asked Me Murray turning to Dylan.

"Sam had three months off when Davey first came to live with us but she's back at work now so we look after him between us." Dylan replied aware that he was stretching the truth. He was far more hands on with Davey now than he had been but Sam still did the lion's share of looking after him.

"What do you do Mrs Keogh?" Ms Murray said turning to Sam.

"I work with Dylan. That's how we met." Sam answered longing to tell this nosey so called professional to get out of her home and stay out. Didn't she have any children who were actually in danger to look out for.

"Are you a nurse?" she asked fatuously

No I'm a specialist registrar in emergency medicine, before that I was an Army medic." Sam answered more calmly than she felt.

"Oh are you a doctor too" the social worker asked unnecessarily.

"Yes." Sam responded irritated that the other woman would assume that just because she was a woman she was a nurse.

"Why did you leave the army?" Ms Murray asked.

"Because I didn't want to risk any long unaccompanied postings now we have Davey." Sam replied truthfully "I'd hate to be aware from him for months at a time and it would confuse him."

"So it was mostly for Davey's benefit?" the nosey social worker went on.

"I did it for all of us," Sam insisted. "Being apart all the time wasn't good for our marriage. I hated being posted away from Dylan. He could only go with me when I had accompanied postings in the UK and it meant him working as a GP not in A&E which he prefers."

"I see. When you're both working who looks after Davey during the day?" Jennie asked Sam.

"He attends the Hospital nursery if we are both working at the same time. I'm sure you'll know of it it's registered and has an outstanding Ofsted report." Dylan informed her shortly.

"Davey was unwell enough to be admitted to the Special Care Baby unit when he was six weeks old. Can you tell me about that?" the social worker asked again.

Sam bristled sure she was being judged and found wanting.

"He had pneumonia which was caused by Respiratory Synctial Virus," Dylan said coldly. "It's very common in babies. Most are simply unwell for a day or two Davey was unlucky."

"Do you think he would have been less unwell if the illness had been picked up on sooner?" Ms Murray asked her voice full of concern.

"No," Dylan said his voice was icy and Sam knew he was hanging onto his self control by a thread. "My wife was worried and brought him into A&E the previous afternoon. He was seen by a specialist paediatrician – there were no clinical signs of pneumonia then. When he deteriorated Sam brought him straight back."

"Did you examine him yourself?" The social worker continued.

"No it would be inappropriate and in any case I am not a paediatrician." Dylan was clearly close to the end of his tether.

"Inappropriate?" the social workers words hung in the air.

"It's not ethical for doctors to treat their relations except in an emergency." Sam explained. Surely the stupid woman knew that. "Dylan and I weren't allowed to treat Davey while he was ill."

"I see. And he's quite well now?" Ms Murray asked.

"Of course," Sam beamed suddenly she was proud of how well Davey was doing. "He's doing really well."

"As I understand it you have not always had the most stable of relationships." The social worker changed the subject unexpectedly.

"What do you mean?" Dylan asked her and Sam was aware that he was about to snap.

"I believe you were separated for some time," Ms Murray clarified smiling sweetly.

"We have always had long periods apart, it went with my job." Sam replied trying to stay calm. "We did have a bit of a rocky patch before my last posting to Afghanistan. That's why I asked the Army to second me to Holby and why I resigned."

The questions went on and on and on. Sam had to be at her most diplomatic to prevent Dylan from blowing it as he grew more and more annoyed by the intrusive questions. He was seething when she started asking exactly why they had separated and then reconciled. They'd mostly managed to gloss over it all with half truths being careful not to reveal anything that wasn't already known. Sam couldn't help seeing her lips tighten at mention of Dylan's former drinking problem. She hoped that didn't mean what she thought it might. She also wondered how much they could keep secret. If the woman started digging around in her medical records she might find out things she hadn't even told Dylan.

She tried to stay calm and serene gazing adoringly at Dylan and fussing Davey trying to distract her grouchy husband every time she sensed he was about to put his foot in it. Dylan being Dylan and an exhausted Dylan thus even more bad tempered than usual that was every two minutes. It didn't help that he wasn't properly dressed as it put him at rather a disadvantage.

"Well I think that's enough for now. I'll write a report giving my recommendations and I'll be in touch." Jennie Murray concluded "I'll see myself out."

Sam accompanied her to the door partly for politeness and partly to make sure that she left, sighing with relief as she shut the door behind her.

"That woman was born in the wrong century" Dylan burst out the moment he heard her pull away from the curb.

"I'm sorry?" Sam looked at him wondering what on earth he meant.

"The Spanish inquisition would have welcomed her talents... I was waiting for her to ask how often we had sex." Dylan replied in disgust.

"We'd have shocked her, if you'd answered." Sam couldn't help grinning.

Dylan grinned back. "We would, although she'd probably have decided we were sex mad and definitely not suitable parents."

"I wonder how she thinks most people become parents," Sam said thoughtfully.

"Speaking of which, you promised me if I behaved myself..." he reminded her hopefully.

"I'm not sure that you did," she replied

"Oh come on I could have been a lot worse," he said optimistically.

"I suppose you could have. Maybe if Davy has a nap after lunch," she acquiesced; there was no need for Dylan to know she'd planned to agree all along.

"He'd better," Dylan replied "I've had next to no sleep and I want a nice peaceful afternoon nap with my wife so if he's sensible Davey will sleep."

"He's too little to bribe," Sam told him laughing "anyway I'm not sure social services would approve of bribery."

"I approve of anything that works," Dylan told her calmly.

"What do you think she'll say in that report of hers?" she asked suddenly anxious again.

"I've no idea," he answered. "We'll find out when she sends her report."

"Do you think she thought we were good enough?" Sam asked again her anxiety levels rising as she spoke.

"Sam. I don't know what she thought. I'm not psychic and I don't have a crystal ball." Dylan said in exasperation.

"What if..." Her voice trailed off.

"Sam, stop upsetting yourself trying to second guess everything." he exclaimed "Davey's happy, he's healthy and he's safe here. Judging by the children we see every day at work I'd think Holby Social services have far higher priorities than taking a five month old baby away from the only family he's ever known. Plus they don't have to pay us to look after him if they put him in foster care it would cost an arm and several legs."

"I hope you're right," she said nervously "I couldn't bear to lose him."

"I told you it won't ever come to that. We'll take him and go somewhere else first. Stop worrying please," he begged her.

"It's not that easy." She replied trying to get a grip on her nerves. She knew Dylan hated it when she worked herself up into a state about something he couldn't do anything about. Like all men he hated anything he couldn't fix.

"I know." Dylan gave her a quick hug "Let's have lunch – I'm famished and then we can all have a nap I need to sleep at some point. I really am knackered."

"I really should clean the boat this afternoon. It's in a state didn't you see that Ms Murray looking. Goodness knows what she thought of me?" Sam answered fretfully.

"Too late to worry about that now, the dust can wait." Dylan said calmly "We'll book a cleaner on Monday."

"Are you sure?" Sam gaped at him in amazement she'd never imagined it being that easy to get him to agree to a cleaner.

"Of course, I hate housework and so do you." He pointed out "why waste time on it when we could be doing other things. I should have sorted it ages ago. You have enough to do and we both know I never clean willingly."

"Thank you," she said "Do you think it matters?"

"What matters?" Dylan sounded very puzzled by the non-sequiter.

"To Davey that I'm not the domesticated sort. I mean I'll never be the kind of mother who bakes biscuits, knits gloves and socks or makes jam," Sam asked doubtfully.

"I don't suppose he gives a damn you daft woman," Dylan told her clearly exasperated.

"Are you sure?" she said fearfully."I'm never going to be a domestic goddess."

"Sam, all Davey or I care about is that you're here," he reassured her. "For goodness sake, Marks and Spencer's makes excellent biscuits and jam and you can buy socks there. Why should you bother with baking or knitting if you don't want to? Please can we stop talking about this and eat lunch before I fade away."

"Shall we go out later?" Sam asked tentatively, "when you've had some sleep I mean."

"When we've had some sleep," he reminded her "We could go down to the coast if you like. Play your cards right and I might treat you to fish and chips - Nothing but the best for my wife."

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed this part if you did please let me know. Actually if you didn't please tell me why too. Thanks<em>


	13. An Uninvited Guest

_Thank you for all the reviews and to the lovely people who have made this a favourite story. I am so pleased that you are enjoying it. As alwasy I am sorry there has been such a long wait between chapters but my life always seems to get in the way and then a certain new character would write herself in, try to take over and changed the direction of the story. I hope you think this part was worth waiting for. If you do please let me know. Reviews always motivate me to carry on writing._

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 - An Uninvited Guest<strong>

They heard nothing at all from social services for some weeks. Dylan refused to discuss how social services might have assessed their parenting ability insisting that he did not have a crystal ball and there was no point in trying to pre-empt whatever may or may not have been written in that report. When it finally arrived, they would read it and deal with whatever they had to but he was not meeting trouble halfway. Sam fretted about it on and off, part of her was still terrified that someone would try to take Davey away from them and she wasn't at all sure that she would be able to deal with it if they did.

When more than a month passed and they'd still heard nothing she allowed herself to hope a little. Surely if social services thought they were so appalling that Davey was in danger they would not have left it so long to intervene. Maybe Annabel Jones had been right and they really weren't looking for perfect. She hoped their weren't because she and Dylan had a far from ideal past and for all that they loved Davey and were doing their very best for him she knew they weren't and never would be exemplary parents.

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><p>Sam was waiting for Dylan at reception one evening a few weeks later – she'd been delayed in resus treating one of two chemistry students who had attempted to manufacture their own bomb. They had successfully created an explosion that had left one of them with flash burns and minus much of his hair and the other with extensive facial burns which left Sam unsure his sight could be saved as well as traumatic blast injuries to one hand that might mean he would lose it. Sam was indubitably the one with the most experience of treating the results of homemade bombs so she'd led on the case leaving Dylan to pick up Davey rather than risk the large fine incurred for lateness. She'd finally managed to hand the student over to the group of surgeons who would use their specialised surgical skills to attempt to repair the havoc he had wreaked on his body and after a difficult conversation with his distraught parents explaining what the ophthalmic, orthopaedic, neuro and plastic surgeons were going to try and do to salvage the situation, all Sam wanted was to go home. Davey had better not even think about doing anything like that when he was older.<p>

She slumped against the reception desk hoping Dylan would hurry. She'd had more than enough of the hospital for one day. As she stood there, an elegant blonde woman in her early sixties marched through the double doors as if she owned the place. Sam eyed her curiously she looked completely out of place in an NHS foyer and she was convinced that whoever she was – she wasn't a patient. She walked briskly up to the reception desk and drummed her fingers until Noel deigned to notice that she was there.

"Can I help you?" Noel asked his tone implying that he'd rather not.

"I'd like to see Dylan Keogh please." The woman replied.

Sam looked up with interest, who was this woman and what did she want with Dylan?

"I'm afraid he's already left for the day." Noel said politely. "Can I take a message?"

"You can tell him, his mother is here to see him." She said coldly.

Noel looked nonplussed then he looked at Sam. "Well – er – Mrs Keogh..."

"Professor Keogh." She corrected poor Noel acidly.

"Professor Keogh, you could – maybe – Sam?" He looked at her desperately.

Seeing nothing else for it Sam stepped forward preparing to introduce herself to this woman who called herself Dylan's mother.

"I'm Sam." She said trying to overcome her instinctive dislike of the overbearing woman. "Maybe I can help."

"I hardly think so." Dylan's mother said coldly looking her up and down and clearly finding her wanting.

"I am his wife," she retorted stung.

"His wife! How old are you? Ten!" Dylan's mother exclaimed loudly.

Everyone within earshot turned to look at them. Sam's hackles rose at once. She hated people drawing attention to the age difference between her and Dylan. It hadn't mattered to them and she couldn't get her head around why it mattered so much to other people. The nine day wonder of it all had worn off at work and she could do without Dylan's mother stirring it up again. She decided to ignore the jibe about her age, apart from anything else she and Dylan had never revealed to their colleagues quite how big the age gap was although Mr Jordan must know as he'd seen both their personal files but he had failed to notice the next of kin details so maybe the dates of birth had passed him by too.

"We'll wait for Dylan outside," she said firmly. "He only went to get Davey he won't be long."

"And who is Davey? Don't tell me he's gone and got another damned dog." Dylan's mother demanded.

"Davey!" Sam said fury rising inside her "is our baby not a dog."

She walked towards the door hoping Dylan's mother would follow her before she revealed anything else Dylan wouldn't like. It was too late really; his mother's arrival had already given their colleagues more than enough gossip fodder for a month of Sundays. Dylan was going to hate it.

"You and Dylan have a baby?" His mother said staring at her open mouthed.

Sam was spared the necessity of answering because she saw Dylan striding across the car park an ecstatic Davey in his arms. The baby saw Sam began crowing in delight and tried to leap out of Dylan's arms to get to her. Sam reached out to take him and gave the baby a big hug burying her face in his hair for a moment to regain her composure. The baby wrapped his chubby arms around her neck and snuggled up to her.

"Hello poppet. I missed you did you miss me?" She asked the baby rhetorically.

"Someone's pleased to see you," Dylan observed then his face fell as he saw who was with her. "Mother this is a surprise."

"You could say that." His mother replied grimly.

"I take it you've already met Sam?" Dylan continued frostily.

"She says she's your wife." Dylan's mother responded as if it was debatable.

"She is," Dylan said baldly.

Sam waited for him to elaborate but he didn't. She could feel him stiffening next to her and knew with certainty that he was about to close down completely. She straightened her spine she was not letting this happen. There was no way that woman who called herself his mother was going to come here and disrupt the family she'd fought so hard for and she was damned if she'd let his mother make Dylan unhappy.

"She is your wife!" His mother sounded incredulous now. "When you sent that email years ago and told me you were moving in some flibbertigibbet half your age I assumed you'd see sense not that you'd marry the girl."

Sam felt antagonism rise in her chest at the far from subtle insult why shouldn't she be Dylan's wife. She sucked in a deep steadying breath and then another. She would not lose her temper and put herself in the wrong. There was no need to stoop to the same level as Dylan's horrendous mother. She no longer wondered why he and Mollie had chosen to have next to no contact with her; she only wondered that they hadn't broken off all communication completely.

"Samantha is not half my age mother." Dylan snapped. "I assume you remember how old I am. If she was half my age she'd still be in school."

Despite her rage Sam suddenly had to suppress a smile. Trust Dylan to go for a factual and logical response and simply challenge his mother's inaccuracy rather than object to her offensive innuendo. He was so predictable sometimes.

"I suppose she got pregnant and trapped you," Dylan's mother said eyeing Davey with distaste "Really Dylan that's the oldest trick in the book. How could you be stupid enough to fall for that?"

"Don't you dare talk about my wife like that," Dylan was finally spurred into action. Obtuse as he was even he grasped just how offensive his mother was being. "And for your information Sam has not and never would trap me. We've been married nearly five years so I think it's fairly clear we did not jump the gun. Even an elephant's gestation period is not that long. David is six months old and our nephew. Did you even read the letter Torley sent you when Mollie died?"

"I make a point of ignoring all Torley's missives. He's a lousy lawyer and his drafting is abysmal." His mother replied aloofly.

Well if you had bothered to read it," Dylan's sarcasm was palpable "You would have known that Davey is Mollie's son and your grandson as well as or nephew. He was born the day before Mollie died; Sam and I bought him home after the funeral.

"He's not your baby then." Dylan's mother replied as the penny finally seemed to drop.

"Yes he is," Sam answered furiously hit on the raw. She hated it when anyone questioned whether Davey was theirs. She was all too aware that she had no genetic connection to the baby she adored. Dylan's connection to their boy was indisputable hers wasn't. She may not have carried him for nine months or given birth to him but it didn't lessen her love for him. "He's been ours since Mollie gave him to us when she was dying. Dylan and I are the only parents he has ever known."

"Well she's certainly a feisty little thing," Dylan's mother said patronisingly.

Sam's hand itched to slap Dylan's insufferable mother's face – hard, ideally more than once to wipe that disdainful look off her smug face. She might be Dylan's only close living relative but she was still unendurable. Dylan deserved far better than this critical, unsupportive witch no wonder he'd spent all the time Sam had known him avoiding her.

"Why did you come?" Dylan asked scorn dripping from every syllable as he disregarded the unsolicited comment on Sam's temperament. "I'm assuming that after all this time it isn't a social call."

"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere," Sam said hastily. "It's raining and it's getting late."

Zoe was standing by the doors, ostensibly for a cigarette break but Sam could virtually see her ears waggling. Big Mac had decided that despite the dark and rain now would be the perfect time to do a bit of litter picking within earshot and Linda wasn't even bothering to look as if she had any legitimate business on the forecourt while she eavesdropped. Dylan followed her gaze and his mouth tightened even further if that was possible.

"That would be sensible," Dylan agreed. "Davey needs to have his dinner and go to bed."

"You've become quite domesticated, I assume I have your wife's influence to blame," Dylan's mother said smoothly but Sam was well aware it wasn't a compliment.

"As we've only met once in the last decade I'm not at all sure how you think you know anything about me or my life." Dylan snapped his temper beginning to get the better of him despite the avid watchers. "I suggest you take yourself off to whatever hotel you've booked and we'll meet you there for coffee tomorrow."

"I thought, perhaps we could have dinner." For the first time his mother sounded uncertain.

"That's hardly feasible with a six month old." Dylan replied. "We have to eat out early with Davey unless we have a babysitter but you wouldn't know anything about that because you left bedtime and all that to whatever cheap aupair you were tormenting at the time."

"Couldn't we have dinner this evening and she could put the child to bed." Dylan's mother asked hesitantly.

"She is my wife and she has a name," Dylan was clearly almost incandescent. "I am not going to go out for dinner and leave Sam at home like the babysitter."

Sam considered saying that she didn't mind in a vain attempt to improve things between mother and son but actually she did mind being treated like the hired help rather than Dylan's wife and in any case it was clear Dylan wouldn't welcome her offer. Davey who had been remarkable patient for him was frightened by Dylan's roar of rage and burying his face in Sam's neck began to howl.

"Shush it's all right darling," Sam murmured to the baby holding him close "I'll go and put him in the car Dylan. You can join me when you're ready."

"I'll come with you." Dylan's tone was arctic. "Mother if you tell me where you are staying. I will see you tomorrow."

Once he'd ascertained that his mother had booked into Holby's most exclusive and expensive hotel, he strode off ahead of Sam and Davey leaving his mother standing helplessly on the forecourt. Despite the instant dislike she had taken to his mother Sam almost felt sorry for her abandoned and humiliated as she was in a strange town but not sorry enough to extend any olive branches. The woman had insulted her and she's been downright offensive towards Dylan. Sam caught up with her husband hoping he wasn't going to freeze her out as well as his mother.

That fear was allayed when he silently put his arm around her shoulders pulling her and Davey close. She relaxed against him resting her head on his shoulder. She wondered whether this was a tacit apology on Dylan's part for his mother's appalling behaviour, a statement of togetherness aimed at his mother or if he just wanted the comfort of having her and Davey close to him. It didn't really matter what his motivation was she was just relieved he wasn't going to retreat into himself and leave her and Davey out in the cold.

They put Davey in the car and drove off in silence. Sam knew she was still smarting over his mother's nasty insinuations and the way she had dismissed both her and Davey as trifling inconveniences she needed to be sure she and Davey were important to him. She glanced sideways at Dylan, his face was set and she was aware that he was shaking although she wasn't sure whether it was rage or emotion. She wished she'd insisted on driving home because she wasn't at all sure he had his mind on the road but she hadn't wanted to provoke him by suggesting he wasn't up to driving. She reached out and put her hand on his leg in a silent gesture of support. He still didn't say anything but appeared to relax a little which boded well for their safe arrival home.

Dylan didn't say a word even after they'd got home. As soon as they got in, he took Dervla who was obviously desperate out for her evening walk while Sam began preparing Davey's meal. Usually he ate when they did but they were nearly an hour later than usual and he was already complaining vociferously that he was a poor pathetic starving baby. She was sure Davey wasn't going to wait for Dylan's return to eat. Davey had recently acquired two teeth which Dylan had discovered when he'd put his finger into the baby's mouth to see if his gums were swollen and been bitten for his pains. He had not been nearly as amused as Sam was by this.

In the last couple of weeks Davy had begun to sample solid food and had taken to it with gusto, so she gave him some toasted pitta bread to keep him going while she heated the pureed vegetables she'd carefully prepared at the weekend. She was trying very hard to be the kind of parent the textbooks said she should be. She didn't intend to risk social services saying that she was inadequate because she was feeding Davey out of jars. Dylan thought this particular attitude was ridiculous pointing out that last time he'd never seen a headline in the tabloid press citing feeding a baby one of Mr Heinz' excellent products in a neglect case but Sam was determined to do it everything right.

She was aware of Dylan's return and him moving around closing the curtains, turning on lights and lighting the solid fuel stove in the sitting room. He went through the same ritual to shut out the world every night after Dervla's last walk. Once he'd finished the boat was their own personal island until the morning.

"I'm sorry," Dylan said abruptly as she was spooning green goo into Davey's mouth.

"What for?" Sam asked even though she was fairly sure she already knew.

"My mother, of course! She had no right to speak to you or about you like that." Dylan answered the anger still audible in his voice.

"It's not your fault." Sam hastened to reassure him. "You didn't invite her here."

"She makes me so angry." He went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I don't hear anything from her for years at a time and then she waltzes back and tries to take over my life and lay down the law."

"She can't make you do anything you don't want to do." Sam pointed out gently.

"I know. She hasn't been able to make me do anything for years but God knows she's tried. You won't let her push us apart will you?" Dylan sounded really anxious.

"Don't be silly, we haven't come this far to let an interfering parent get in the way." Sam asserted.

"I couldn't bear to lose you or Davey." He admitted. "It was awful without you before. I couldn't do it again."

"You won't have to." She reassured him. "I'm not going anywhere. Your mother will probably go back to wherever she's come from in a few days and we won't see here again for month if not years."

I hope you're right." Dylan sounded uncharacteristically doubtful.

"I'm sure I am." Sam reassured him. "You, me and Davey are a family now and we don't need anyone else. Look Davey's almost asleep in his dinner why don't you give him his bath and put him to bed and I'll sort out dinner before you start complaining you're fading away."

If she was honest it was a bit of wrench giving up her usual routine of putting Davey to bed but she hoped it might snap Dylan out of his introspective mood. Bathtime when he was in charge tended to be a riotous affair, which usually ended in a flooded bathroom, foam all over the place and Dylan wetter than the baby but they both seemed to enjoy it. It was far from the gentle before bed wind down Sam usually instituted but needs must.

Sam couldn't help smiling as she listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom. There were loud splashes, Davey was giggling and Dylan was clearly carrying on a one sided conversation with their boy even though she couldn't make out the words. She rummaged in the fridge looking for something Dylan would like to eat and emerged victorious with steak. She briefly considered putting together a nice green salad to eat with it then dismissed that idea. Dylan had had a rotten day and deserved his favourite things to eat, to hell with calories and cholesterol she wasn't going to worry about healthy eating tonight. He could have his steak with chips, fried onions and mushrooms with a corn on the cob and peas so he wouldn't think she was ill. She burrowed into the freezer in search of the chips she'd hidden from him by concealing the packet under the vegetables weeks ago.

Sam laid the table, found a chilled bottle of sparkling water and some cold juice to go with it. After the unwelcome surprise of the evening she'd have given anything for a glass of red wine but that wasn't an option so she'd make do with grape juice. Ten minutes later dinner was just about ready but Dylan still didn't seem to have got Davey off to sleep. Resignedly she put her beautifully cooked dinner into the oven and hoped he'd hurry. She'd not be best pleased if she'd put her principles aside and cooked his favourite meal only for it to be ruined.

"Sam, Davey wants you to say goodnight." Dylan called.

She went through to their bedroom and found an incredibly sleepy baby draped over Dylan's shoulder. She lifted him up for a cuddle and was not entirely surprised when Davey snuggled into her chest and promptly drowsed off in her arms. She gently laid him in his cot at the foot of their bed tucked him up, and then stood there for a moment gloating over their healthy baby. They were so lucky to have him.

At six months, he was old enough now that he should be sleeping in his own room. Dylan had cleared out the tiny box room, really not much more than a cupboard with a window but big enough for a cot, chest of drawers, toy box and rocking chair and even gone so far as to repaint the walls but somehow neither of them felt happy about the baby sleeping in a separate room to them, so although his toys were in there he still slept in their room with them.

"It's hard to believe what a tiny scrap he was six months ago." She said thoughtfully.

"We've got more than twice the baby we started with." Dylan pointed out.

"Almost three times." She said automatically. "He was just on 5lb when he was born and he was 13lb last time he was weighed."

"Typical Keogh," Dylan grinned at her. "Likes his food."

"Speaking of which." Sam said hastily. "I left our dinner in the oven to keep warm. "Come and eat before it's spoilt."

She bent to kiss Davey's forehead and towed Dylan into the sitting room.

"What is it?" Dylan asked with interest. "You haven't made that awful vegetable thing again?"

"If you insult my cooking..." She began then relented "It's your lucky day I cooked you steak and chips."

"You're quite a good wife sometimes you know." Dylan told her grinning.

"Only some of the time?" She asked pretending to take offense.

"Well most of the time." Her husband conceded.

"All the time!" She retorted. "All of the time not some of the time Keogh."

Dylan made short work of his steak and chips but she was amused to note that although he covered his chips lavishly in ketchup, he left his grilled tomato on the side of his plate just as he always did. She had to admit the steak and chips were good – it wasn't that she didn't like Dylan's favourite foods. It was just that she was aware of the effect that over consumption would have on her fitness and she didn't want to be a young widow. Well a younger widow than she had to be. It was unlikely that Dylan would outlive her but she was going to do her best to keep him healthy.

"That was fantastic, Sam." Dylan was clearly in a much better mood.

"It wasn't bad." She agreed.

"Is there any pudding?" He asked hopefully.

"Actually there is." She smiled at her husband. "There's treacle tart and ice cream."

Dylan's face lit up. "What do you want?" He asked her suspiciously. "Are you about to tell me something I really don't want to hear?"

"No!" She said in mock indignation "After the day you've had I thought you'd like a treat that's all."

"And you think you're going to get away with just feeding me. I've a much better idea for making it up to me than that." He eyed her optimistically.

She grinned at him. "Maybe if you deserve it, you'll get another treat later. Now I'm going to get our pudding before it burns and afterwards we'll curl up on the sofa with the box of chocolates that crazy patient gave you."

"Crazy?" Dylan asked raising his eyebrows.

"She must have been to think your bedside manner worthy of chocolates." She informed him loftily.

"I'll have you know that was a spectacular piece of diagnostic skill on my part." Dylan told her.

"Spectacularly modest too." Sam said dryly "But seeing as they're my favourites I don't mind helping you eat them."

She was under no illusions about who was going to eat the lion's share of those chocolates. She'd been contemplating their consumption ever since Dylan had received them the previous week. They were a very expensive gourmet selection containing her favourite rose and violet creams and crystallised fruit and ginger dipped in plain chocolate. Dylan whose tastes in confectionary veered towards Kit Kats and Yorkie Bars had been unimpressed. She'd let him eat the plainer milk chocolates and those delicious plain ones would be all for her. She could always have an extra run.

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><p>They'd arranged to meet Dylan's mother for morning coffee in her hotel because Dylan was working lates and Sam wasn't working at all. She still found leaving Davey a huge wrench so eventually they'd come to a compromise with Nick Jordan, who hadn't been too keen that she'd reduce her hours and work three days a week instead of five and only needed to work one weekend a month, It was enough to continue her professional training and work towards her exit exams but meant she had time to spend with Davey. She had noticed the difference in her pay packet the first month but Dylan earned more than enough for them to manage. She'd never minded earning less, she'd had no income at all when they'd first met and it hadn't mattered.<p>

Now that she didn't have to go to work on Friday's, Sam and Davey often spent the morning at the babies swimming class or the little ones story session at the library. She'd tried baby massage but it turned out that Davey hated it. It might have calmed the other babies but he went rigid and screamed usually for the whole session so she'd given up on that idea. Actually as Dylan was at home this morning they probably wouldn't have done any of those things. If he was around they were far more likely to have a lie in, a leisurely breakfast and then take Davey and Dervla out for a long walk and let Davey play on the swings. Now he could sit unaided he loved swings. However they might have chosen to spend the morning, visiting her ghastly mother in law in some fashionable hotel would not have been top of her list. Sam could not help resenting Dylan's mother for the loss of the cosy family morning she'd been anticipating.

"Trust her to choose the most expensive hotel in Holby" Dylan announced as he pulled up on the forecourt of The Holby Manor.

The Holby Manor was on the moors just outside city overlooking the estuary and the suspension Bridge on one side and with a stunning view of the moor on the other. It was a country house type of hotel complete with a spa and a restaurant menu designed by a celebrity chef (who probably visited three times a year). Sam had never even been into the place. For all they liked a good meal, she and Dylan had never gone in for ostentatious restaurants. Dylan's taste veered towards the kind of place that was obscure, intimate and renowned for the quality of the food rather than places like this which simply screamed money and exclusivity and Sam disliked paying a small fortune for three mouthfuls of something pretentious.

She knew it definitely wasn't their sort of place when a uniformed valet appeared to take the car keys and park the car. Sam wondered what the valet would have made of Dylan's old car. He'd probably have fainted away at the thought of having to park it next to the shiny Porsches, Range Rovers and BMWs. She began to feel very apprehensive about taking Davey there at all. This did not look like the kind of place that would welcome a baby. The look the concierge gave Davey as they walked into the gleaming reception confirmed her worst fears.

"Where did you arrange to meet your mother?" She asked apprehensively.

"In the Drawing Room, for morning coffee." He said it so morosely it was clear he wanted to be here even less than she did.

Dylan's mother was seated on an elegant Regency striped sofa in a bay window, she saw them but there was no smile of greeting and she did not stand up. Sam suddenly realised she didn't know Dylan's mother's name and she'd have to call her something. It was hardly appropriate to address her mother in law as Professor Keogh and Mother was unthinkable – she already had a mother albeit a rather disinterested one. The obvious thing to do would be to use her first name but she didn't know what it was. How embarrassing to have to admit she didn't know.

"Dylan." She murmured hastily in his ear as they crossed the room towards his mother. "What's your mother's name?"

"Keogh obviously." He sounded bemused by the question.

"I know that. What's her first name?" Sam asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Dylan answered

"I need to know what the hell I should call her." Sam said quietly.

"Don't call her anything at all. I try not to." Dylan replied promptly.

"Dylan!" She couldn't keep the irritation out of her voice now.

"Her name's Aline." He responded hurriedly.

Sam sat on the soft squashy sofa opposite Dylan's mother with Davey on her lap. Dylan sat beside her and deliberately put his arm round her shoulders. Sam leaned back into his embrace grateful for the reassurance. She was fairly sure he wanted to present a united front to his mother but she was feeling uncharacteristically intimidated by the woman opposite and it was comforting knowing Dylan was there to support her.

There was a low coffee table between them and it felt rather as if the older woman was about to interview them both. Her formal appearance added to this impression Aline Keogh was very soignée in a pale grey suit and white silk shirt with perfectly styled ash blonde hair and immaculate make up. She must be at least sixty Sam reflected but she didn't look much more than 45, she wondered if she'd had some discreet work done. If she had it was expensive. Sam was suddenly acutely aware that she'd not dried her hair that morning instead choosing to plait it while it was wet, she was wearing chain store trousers with a creased shirt and she hadn't bothered with make up at all. She felt she was letting Dylan down and wished she'd made a bit more effort when she'd dressed that morning. Dylan on the other hand was supremely unconcerned that he was in cords, elderly check shirt and distinctly shabby boots.

Aline held out her hand to her son as if he was a distant business acquaintance rather than her only son "Dylan and Sandra isn't it?"

"Samantha" Dylan snapped.

"Call me Sam." She put in hastily hoping Dylan's mother would ask her to call her Aline in return and solve her dilemma.

"You bought the child then." Aline said as if Sam hadn't spoken.

"We could hardly leave him at home alone." Dylan replied sarcastically. "What is all this in aid of anyway?"

Sam sighed this was not going to be a pleasant interlude. She wondered if Aline was going to enlighten them as to the reason for her return to England and their summons anytime soon. She was very uneasy about Dylan's mother's presence and she was sure that she was not here to make up for lost time. She was suspected that his mother's sudden appearance had the potential to rock the boat if not sink it completely. They had not got through all the storms of the previous eighteen months to let his mother ruin it now. She wouldn't let her. Sam smiled sweetly at the older woman and smiled adoringly at Dylan's determined to show Aline the importance of her place in Dylan's life.

"All what?" Aline affected innocence.

"You've flown halfway across the world and turned up on my doorstep for the first time in a decade. Why?" Dylan asked brusquely.

"I've retired." Aline replied equally bluntly. "And I've decided I might as well come back to England and live closer to my only surviving child."

There was an ominous silence. Sam could feel Dylan tensing beside her at this unwelcome information. She couldn't say the idea of her mother in law living locally appealed to her either. Her own parents were in Burkina Faso working for Medicin Sans Frontieres. They exchanged emails once a month and she saw them every two years when they flew home if it coincided with her being in the country and if she was honest it was enough for all of them. Dylan finally broke the silence which was becoming oppressive.

"Do you honestly think you can start playing happy families after all these years?" Dylan sounded absolutely incredulous.

Aline stiffened her spine and Sam drew in a sharp breath certain that her mother in law was about to say something they would all regret but fortunately at that moment a smartly dressed waiter appeared with a silver coffee pot, white porcelain coffee service and a three tier stand filed with delectable looking cakes.

"Can I bring anything for the baby Madam." The waiter asked looking at Davey with interest.

"If I could have some hot water to warm his bottle that would be lovely." Sam replied gratefully more thankful than she could say for the interruption.

"Of course Madam." The waiter glided noiselessly away.

Sam was relieved that the tension seemed to be dissipating as Aline busied herself pouring coffee and Dylan quietly helped himself to a generous slice of chocolate cake. She was going to have to be firmer about healthy eating Sam reflected watching him stir three sugars into his tea. She studied the selection carefully then and offered Davey a sponge finger to chew. He was delighted with the new taste. Aline she noted did not select a cake at all. She suspected that the other woman only kept her rail thin figure with iron determination, willpower and almost certainly no cakes. Reflecting that she took plenty of exercise to burn it off Sam chose a meringue filled with raspberries and cream for herself.

"You won't be able to eat cakes and stay that size when you are my age" Aline commented.

"If I carry on running I'm sure I will." Sam replied cheerfully. She was determined not to rise to the insults.

"Are you fond of exercise?" Aline asked.

"I run about fifty miles a week," Sam said calmly.

"I prefer Pilates and yoga myself I've no wish to bulk up and they are more ladylike." Aline pronounced.

Sam felt Dylan bristling beside her "Luckily I have never pretended to be a lady," she parried the insult with a calm she hadn't known she possessed. She was damn well going to protect her husband and baby from this woman if she lost her temper she knew it would be used against her."

"Where did you go to school?" Aline demanded.

Sam was slightly surprised by the non-sequiter but decided there was no harm in naming the church boarding school she'd been sent to because her parents were always overseas or the prestigious girls' public school she'd won a scholarship to at sixteen.

"Which medical school did you go to?" Aline questioned her once more.

Sam began to feel as if she was being interviewed and failing to meet expectations again.

"Mother you know which medical school Sam went to because she met me there." Dylan snapped. "She is my wife not someone you are putting through the paces in the court room."

"I am just trying to take an interest in the woman you married." Aline said in aggrieved tones. "Really I can't do anything right can I? I should have stayed in California."

"I wish you had." Dylan retorted "We've managed quite happily without you for the last five years and I'm sure we will continue to do so."

Aline gave a little gasp and turned so white that for a moment Sam thought she might faint but she appeared to recover herself.

"You are possibly the most ungrateful child any mother had the misfortune to bear." She exclaimed "All I ever wanted was the best for you."

"You had a damn funny way of showing it sending me to boarding school when I was seven. You couldn't wait to get rid of us." Dylan replied angrily. "It's no wonder Dad drank you drove him to it. I don't need or want you. Sam and I are happy as we are."

Sam was aware that although the conversation had been conducted in hushed voices the hostility between mother and son was obvious. The waiter was frozen by the door and the other group of people in the room were trying to carry on their conversation and conspicuously ignoring the family quarrel.

"If that's the way you feel, clearly I am wasting my time here." Aline told them with surprising composure, "I'll find somewhere where I am welcome." She stood up hastily and walked away with dignity.

She'd gone barely four steps across the silent when she suddenly shrieked shrilly and crumpled to the floor.

"Here we go again," Dylan said impatiently "If she doesn't get her own way she turns on the histrionics."

Sam glanced at her mother-in-law; she was sure that there was something not quite right. Aline was letting out agonised little gasps and moans and she was sure this wasn't faked. She'd seen squaddies who wanted some time away from the front line put on some impressive performances but some instinct told her this wasn't one.

"I don't think she's putting it on," she told her husband calmly. Sam placed Davey carefully on the floor and hurried to the huddled figure on the floor. "It's all right Aline, You're going to be fine," Sam reassured her quickly although she was far from sure that this was the case.

Inwardly she was horrified by her mother in law's condition. Aline was semi conscious and moaning faintly; her skin had gone grey and clammy underneath the makeup, her respiratory rate was much too high and when she took her pulse it was racing. Something was very wrong indeed. Sam was aware of Dylan coming to join her and when he registered his mother's appearance his attitude changed in an instant and the resentful son was automatically replaced by the experienced emergency consultant.

"Call an ambulance please." Dylan instructed the waiter as he knelt beside Sam and began rapidly assessing his mother. "It's OK mother whatever this is we'll sort it out."

"She's tachy as hell." Sam murmured "and her respiratory rates about 35."

Aline groaned in pain and clutched ineffectually at her stomach. Dylan tried to straighten his mother's position to make her more comfortable but she screamed in pain and doubled over again immediately.

"Where does it hurt?" Dylan asked his mother.

"Back." She mumbled faintly and "here" she indicated her abdomen.

"When you gasped before, was it because it hurt?"" Sam asked with a sudden inspiration.

Aline nodded. Very gently Sam examined her abdomen and to her horror felt the large pulsating mass.

"Dylan!" She said quietly indicating his mother's abdomen.

In turn he examined his mother and froze as he came to the same conclusion as she had.

"Shit!" he muttered in a tone so low only Sam could catch it. Then more loudly "As soon as that ambulance arrives they'll give you some pain relief and you'll feel better."

"I'm dying aren't I?" Aline said.

"Not if I have anything to do with it." Sam reassured her. "The ambulance is on its way, we'll get you into the hospital and they'll treat you."

She hoped she sounded convincing. If her diagnosis was right and she was certain it was, 50% of patients died before they ever reached the hospital. There was every chance that Aline Keogh was going to die on the floor of The Holby Manor and there would be nothing she or Dylan could do to prevent it.

"I'm not a fool." The older woman replied feebly. "So please don't treat me like one. I know I have an aortic aneurysm and I am assuming that it is now dissecting. I also know that between 75 and 90 percent of people whose aneurysm ruptures die. So no lies please."


	14. The Last Skeleton

_I am sorry it has taken me such a long time to post this next part. In my defence I've had lots of real life to cope with, including births, deaths, being headhunted into a new job, elderly relations, an unfortunate accident and of course the Olympics which I did not expect to enjoy and found I did. Writing has kind of had to take a back seat to all that._

_This is for Anny, Callie and Kasca Black who have been unfailingly patient and encouraging and let me bounce daft ideas around in the early hours when I should have been asleep. Thank you for all the nice reviews for Chaptrr 13 - there are a lovely ego boost. I hope you think this part was worth waiting for. Obviously this is now well and truly AU (Don't mention the D word.) and I like it that way but I have borrowed more recent storylines from Casualty where I can fit them in. This is probably the part where I say I am only borrowing Casualty and the characters and I will give them back when I've finished playing except for Davey, Veronica, the social worker and Aline who are mine all mine._

_Apologies for the epic length of this part - it just growed. I hope you enjoy it. As always if you do or even if you don't I do like feedback._

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 – The Last Skeleton<strong>

There was a very awkward silence. Sam struggled to think of something to say. Dylan's mother had obviously known that she had an aortic aneurysm. Clearly Aline had also done her research, knew all about her condition and the risks an untreated aneurysm entailed so why had she embarked on a long haul flight. Any decent surgeon would have warned her against making the journey until after the aneurysm had been repaired or alternatively if she must travel to cross the Atlantic by road or rail and sea rather than fly. Aline must have really wanted to come home or possibly... Sam suddenly found herself considering the distasteful alternative that Aline's US medical insurance simply did not cover the intricate and expensive specialised surgery she required and she had been left with no choice other than to return to Britain. Not that Aline's reasoning really mattered now. All that was important was that they kept her alive long enough to get her into Holby City so the surgeons could give her a fighting chance. Sam found herself hoping that Elliott Hope would be the surgeon on take that day from everything she'd heard he was the very best and Aline was going to need the best.

Sam turned her attention back to Aline wondering what else she could do to stabilise her. The problem was she had absolutely nothing to work with. Ideally she'd give her pain relief and oxygen and get at least two lines in to pump her full of fluid and support her leaky circulation. None of that was an option. Until the ambulance arrived all she and Dylan could do was watch, try to reassure Aline, which was going to be difficult, as she clearly wasn't going to believe any of the comforting lies Sam would normally tell a patient in such a perilous condition. If she arrested and went into EMD she would almost certainly die before she or Dylan could do anything. Sam had treated EMD in the field but that was different. She'd had her field surgery kit with her and plenty of O neg blood to top him up. The young soldier's chest had already been well and truly open so she'd clamped off his leaking aorta in the helicopter and provided him with 4 litres of blood on the way back to Bastion. Even if they were prepared to open Aline's chest in the middle of the drawing room floor in The Holby Manor she had no kit to do it with. It was only in Hollywood films that a doctor with nerve and skill (usually a family GP at that) could make use of a steak knife and bulldog clip. Sam shuddered at the thought.

"Well you'd better put your mind to being in the minority." Sam said briskly. "Frankly if you die on me it won't do my reputation as an emergency medic any good so I'd appreciate it if you made every effort to stay alive."

Davey who had decided he had been abandoned moved on from whining and sobbing to full-scale shrieks of rage and ire. Never in his short life had he been left to cry on his own for this long and he was frankly outraged. Normally when he shouted for her Sam came running and even in the nursery his key worker never left him to cry for very long. Sam was torn she knew Davey did not need her immediately the way Aline did but he wanted her and she couldn't bear to hear his distress.

"Go and pick up that child before he has hysterics," Aline murmured faintly.

"I can't..." Sam hesitated longing to go to Davey but feeling she must stay with her patient.

"Go and calm Davey down." Dylan told her. "I can stay with my mother. We can't do anything else until the ambulance gets here and Davey will cry himself sick in a minute."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. I am perfectly capable of coping on my own and he's beside himself."

Sam didn't need any more encouragement; she got up and hurried back towards her furious baby. Davey wasn't on the floor anymore as one of the women in the other group had picked him up and was trying to soothe him but he didn't want anything to do with her. He was red in the face and absolutely rigid with rage.

"I'm sorry." The nice woman apologised "I tried but he only wants his Mum."

"Thank you." Sam smiled at her and reached out to take the distraught baby. "It's all right Davey darling. I'm here. I was always here. Your Granny isn't very well and I had to look after her but I didn't leave you."

The loud wails subsided to faint sobs and then faded into the occasional hiccup. Sam fished a tissue out of her handbag and wiped the tears from Davey's cheeks. Although she was trying to console Davey for just about the first time ever she didn't have her mind 100% on him while she was with him. The majority of her thoughts were directed towards Aline or more to the point the effect it would have on her husband if her mother in law failed to recover. For all they did not get on Sam was sure that Dylan would take it very badly if his mother died. He had an appalling tendency to blame himself when he didn't manage to save a patient especially if he thought there was something else he could have done. That this was his mother, they did not get on and had just had an extremely acrimonious conversation would only make it much worse. Where the bloody hell was that ambulance? The sooner it came, the sooner they could get a couple of lines in and whisk Aline into hospital.

Sam decided to go outside and watch for the ambulance then she could put the paramedics in the picture before they saw Dylan and potentially said something he would find unforgiveable. She walked towards the door pausing to tell Dylan that she was going to intercept the ambulance.

She had just walked through the front door when she heard the familiar wail of the sirens and Sam hurried onto the forecourt to meet them. It screeched to a halt and she was relieved to see Jeff and Dixie, if anyone could handle this they could.

"Am I pleased to see you two." She called across to them.

"What are you doing here Princess?" Jeff asked curiously "I didn't think this was your sort of place."

"Jeffrey – they are entitled to a dirty weekend away without you sticking your nose in." Dixie reproved him "I'm sorry love I can't take him anywhere."

"Funny sort of dirty weekend with the baby in tow." Jeff remarked.

"Maybe they couldn't get a babysitter." Dixie suggested.

Sam went slightly pink but decided to ignore them. "We were meeting Dylan's mother for coffee." She said with what she hoped was quiet dignity.

"I'd heard his mother had turned up out of the blue." Jeff said cheerfully "Bit of a to do or so Big Mac tells me."

"Jeffrey. Mind your own business." Dixie reprimanded him again.

"She collapsed about twenty minutes ago." Sam continued calmly "She has a known aortic aneurysm and I am almost certain that it's now dissecting so we need to get her into Holby ASAP."

"Where is she?" Dixie switched instantly to professional mode.

"She's in the drawing room." Sam led them to Aline who was still in a crumpled heap in the middle of the floor. "This is Aline Keogh, mid sixties, known triple A, sudden collapse with pulsating abdominal mass on examination."

"I'm 61" Aline said faintly from the floor "When you get to my age you'll know how important it is not to add any more years onto your age."

"She is 63 actually. Now is not a good time to lie about your age mother." Dylan took over giving the history effortlessly. "Her pulse is 240 and are 38. I want two lines in and run plasma expander through both. She needs oxygen and ten of morphine before we move her."

"I'll see if the helicopter's free." Jeff said calmly. "Be much quicker and smoother for her."

Even as he'd been speaking Dixie was on her knees attaching Aline to a monitor while Jeff returned to the ambulance to request the air ambulance. Sam handed Davey to a bemused waitress and extracted what she needed from the paramedics kit to get a wide bore cannula into Aline's right arm. Dylan was rapidly inserting an identical line into her left arm.

"BP 70/40 and SATS are down to 82." Dixie announced.

"Chopper's on its way." Jeff announced re-entering the room. "Full theatre team is on standby back at Holby and Professor Hope will admit her directly to theatres."

"Not long now Aline and we'll have you sorted. Professor Hope is one of the best. This will help with the pain" Sam attempted to reassure her mother in law as she administered a dose of morphine through one of the lines. She hoped it would take effect soon; Aline's moans and groans were very disconcerting even to someone who was used to dealing with people who were in pain. From outside she could hear the roar of the helicopters engine. "That was quick. Aline the helicopters here. You'll be in hospital very soon."

The handover to the HEMS staff and transfer to the air ambulance was accomplished rapidly and Aline was safely ensconced inside the helicopter for the short journey into hospital.

"Are you coming in with us Keogh?" Neil Standish, the HEMS doctor whom they both knew slightly asked.

"I'm not sure," Dylan demurred. "Is there room?"

"There's room for one of you." The pilot replied. "We can't take the kiddy."

"You go with your mother Dylan." Sam said quickly. "I'll collect Davey and drive into Holby and meet you. I'll see you there in half an hour or so."

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" He asked anxiously.

"Of course I will. Go with your mother Dylan." Sam insisted. "I'll come and find you as soon as I can." She bent over Aline to attempt a final reassurance. "You'll be fine. I'll see you soon."

She stood in the car park watching until the helicopter had faded into a miniscule dark speck in the sky then went off to find their car and follow it to Holby.

* * *

><p>It took Sam a while to find Dylan when she reached the hospital half an hour later. Davey was sound asleep so she carried him inside in his car seat hoping he'd sleep for as long as possible. She was half expecting him to be working in the ED as if nothing had happened, but after checking the staff room, resus and his precious CDU and drawing a blank she was forced to ask Nick if he knew anything about her husband's whereabouts. Nick denied having seen Dylan all day but after hearing her rapid explanations told her to tell him not to show up for his shift.<p>

Eventually she ran Dylan to earth in a tiny room off the main theatre complex; it was little more than a windowless cupboard, which she assumed was used by staff. There was a single bed obviously used for crashing by exhausted on call staff, a dilapidated sofa and a fridge with a kettle and basic tea and coffee facilities on top. She set Davey's seat down on the bed with a sigh of relief; he was getting really heavy now and sat beside Dylan on the grubby sofa.

"How is she?" Sam asked at once.

"Still alive." Dylan told her bluntly.

"Well that's probably as good as it gets at this stage." Sam replied calmly.

"They wouldn't let me observe." Dylan said with some irritation.

"I'm not surprised." Sam said crisply "You're a bloody nightmare in theatre at the best of times and as it's your mother you'd be ten times worse. I should think poor Professor Hope would have a breakdown if you were in his theatre."

"I would only make helpful suggestions." Dylan said with wounded dignity.

"Possibly Professor Hope would find your suggestions less than helpful." Sam said trying to suppress a grin. Despite the seriousness of the situation she could just picture the havoc Dylan would wreak if he had been allowed in theatre to observe. She wasn't sure what the surgical equivalent of a backseat driver was called but whatever it was Dylan was it.

"Do you think it was my fault?" Dylan said suddenly.

"How could it be?" Sam asked gently. She'd known this was coming.

"I made her lose her temper. Pushed her blood pressure up..." Dylan sounded very guilty. "If I'd known..."

"That aneurysm was a time bomb waiting to explode." She assured him confidently. "You knew nothing about it but Aline did. She knew the risks and made her choices anyway. She chose to fly more than five thousand miles. She could have controlled her temper and she didn't. Besides I don't think it blew when she stormed off. She'd never have survived long enough for to get into theatre if it had blown it has to be a slow leak. Your mother was in pain before she ever lost her temper. I think it had been leaking away quietly for hours, probably since last night maybe longer."

"But..."

"No Dylan this wasn't your fault and I won't let you think it is." Sam insisted. "Come here."

She tugged her stubborn husband into her arms to give him a hug. He clung to her in a very un-Dylan like way so she held him close, pressed a butterfly kiss on his forehad and stroked his hair giving him a chance to regain his composure.

"Did they give you any idea how long they'd be?" She asked.

"Hope didn't really stop to speak to me at all. He and Jac Naylor were all ready scrubbed and waiting." Dylan explained. "She deteriorated on the way. I'm amazed she held on to be honest."

"It wasn't unexpected considering the state she was in. At least there hasn't been any unnecessary delay." Sam said as soothingly as she could. "Why don't you go and ask the nurse in charge of theatres? They should have an idea what's going on."

"I can't." He replied.

"Why on earth not?" She queried in surprise

"I'm too scared." He told her firmly.

"Of what she'll say?" Sam asked puzzled.

"No. Of being eaten alive. Chrissie Williams is in charge of theatres today that's why I'm hiding in here." Dylan said only slightly shamefaced.

"I didn't have you down as a coward." She said in disbelief. "There's nothing scary about Sister Williams."

"Of course you wouldn't be scared. You're a woman." Dylan answered "Do you know what they say about her in the Gents?"

"I don't think I want to thanks." Sam shook her head.

"She'll eat me for breakfast and men who fall into her clutches usually end up losing their wives. I'm not risking it." Dylan admitted.

"You big baby." Sam snorted with laughter. "You look after Davey and I'll go and find her."

"Don't leave me alone too long." Dylan said anxiously.

"Fear not I'll be back to protect you in five minutes." Sam gave him another quick hug before heading for the nurses' station in the middle of the theatre complex. Chrissie Williams was behind the desk shuffling papers but looked up as she approached.

"Can I help Dr Nichols? I didn't think you were working today?" she said all professional helpfulness.

"I'm not. I came to ask you about Dylan's mother." Sam explained.

"Dylan's mother…" Chrissie was momentarily non plussed then she put two and two together. "Oh you mean Dr Keogh's Mother. She's quite poorly I'm afraid. Dr Hope and Dr Standish from HEMS were very concerned about her."

"I gathered that." Sam said icily "I was there when she collapsed. I was wondering if you knew how long the surgery was likely to take?"

"Dr Hope though it would be at least four hours maybe more. It will have to be open surgery now that the aneurysm has dissected of course." Chrissie explained.

"In that case I'll see if I can persuade Dylan to wait at home." Sam said thoughtfully. "There's nothing we can do here."

"That sounds like a good idea," Chrissie replied clearly relieved at the thought of removing the uncooperative Dr Keogh from her Department. "I'll phone you if there's any change."

"Thank you." Sam replied as politely as she could.

Sam wondered why half the men in the hospital drooled over her and the other half were petrified. She was merely a not so young bottle blonde and a half competent nurse. She couldn't begin to see how Sister Williams had Dylan cowering in terror in a dilapidated on call room.

* * *

><p>It took less effort than Sam had anticipated to convince Dylan they could wait for news just as easily in the comfort of the boat as in the hospital. He still blamed himself for precipitating his mother's collapse but he was not wildly anxious in the way many sons would have been if their mother was undergoing the kind of difficult and dangerous surgery Aline was undergoing that afternoon. Sam couldn't blame him, even by her own account Aline had not been up to much as a mother and they were far from close.<p>

She wondered how she'd feel if it was her own mother in theatre. She suspected she wouldn't be unduly distressed. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she'd seen her parents since she'd left home. However, if it had been her Aunt Veronica undergoing life threatening surgery she'd be beside herself. Auntie Ronnie had been there every school holiday, on sports day, for prize-giving's and her graduation and had even helped her choose her wedding dress. Uncle Charles had given her away because her parents had not thought their daughter's wedding important enough to fly home for. Other than Dylan and Davey her aunt and uncle were the only people who mattered to her.

She thought rather guiltily that she'd been avoiding them ever since she'd heard about the GMC investigation not wanting them to know what a mess she'd made of everything. If she was honest she'd not really told them anything since she'd returned from that ill-fated tour of Afghanistan because she hadn't wanted them to know anything about its aftermath. They didn't know she and Dylan had patched things up or that they had Davey. She must do something about that. As soon as Aline was out of danger she'd phone and either invite them to come and visit or the three of them would drive up to Norfolk and see them. She could introduce them to Davey, Sam was sure her aunt would be delighted with an almost grandson just as she had tried to take her absent sisters place in Sam's life as far as she could.

Dylan was only marginally less impossible at home but at least away from the confines of the hospital he had more space to pace up and down in while he fretted about the long silence from the hospital. In vain did Sam point out that if Aline had died someone would have let them know and in this context no news was good news. She knew it was a comforting lie and so did he. In all honesty she was astounded that Aline had survived this long. She must be tougher than her own army boots. Maybe if she'd held on this long without bleeding out in theatre she'd be in with a fighting chance.

In the end they went out for a walk with Dervla to distract Dylan and use up some of his pent up energy while they waited for news. Aside from anything else Sam was sure if she didn't stop him walking up and down the living room carpet he'd wear a permanent path in it and it had been expensive. She'd found the receipt in his desk and been astounded that frugal Dylan had spent that much on carpet.

It was six hours before Elliott Hope telephoned to talk Dylan through the surgery. Sam had always known he was a kind and conscientious man but it went far beyond the demands of professional courtesy to telephone himself and explain how it had gone when he must have been exhausted after a long and complex day in surgery. Elliott explained that technically the surgery had been successful and he was optimistic that Aline would make a full recovery. They were concerned about her renal function, as he had been compelled to clamp off the blood supply to her kidneys for some time while performing the repair but they were hopeful it would improve over the next twenty-four hours.

Aline had required nine pints of blood because there had been a point where she had been losing blood faster than they could replace it. She and was now heavily sedated and ventilated but relatively stable in ITU. He did not need to add that the next twenty-four hours would be critical because they both knew that successful surgery did not mean Aline would survive. Everything would depend on the progress she made over the next forty-eight hours. They were both relieved though it was amazing she'd made it that far and the fact that she had was a damn good sign? Professor Hope advised them not to visit that night as Aline was far too deeply sedated to be aware of their presence and promised that the Sister in charge in ITU would phone if there was any change or if she thought they were needed.

Deciding he needed a treat even if it was the second night in a row once again she abandoned the strict healthy eating regime and cooked Dylan something he really liked to eat. Aline was having a terrible effect on their diet Sam reflected. Judging by the amount of fat and sugar they had both consumed since his mother's arrival a mere 24 hours before it seemed that stress drove them both immediately to comfort eating and she hoped this wasn't a sign of things to come. If they ate like this whenever Aline was around they'd both be the size of a house and she feared for Dylan's arteries, it was clear his mother as well as his father had coronary heart disease and it didn't bode well for him. Despite this she cooked another of Dylan's favourites Macaroni Cheese with garlic bread - the ultimate in comfort foods. The cheese formed a golden brown chewy crust on the top and Sam had to admit she enjoyed it. Dylan was not the only one with a terrible weakness for cheese. She'd just have to encourage him to walk Dervla more, she knew she'd never get him to set foot in a gym but he could probably be coaxed into swimming more and she was going to have to make more time for running or none of her clothes would fit.

* * *

><p>Aline did not die overnight, indeed by mid morning she was conscious, breathing unaided and demanding to know where her son was. They both went up to visit her in their lunch break. Sam was mildly resentful because she'd wanted to go and see Davey as she normally did but ITU was no place for a baby and Dylan needed the moral support so she suppressed her antagonism towards the mother in law she barely knew and accompanied Dylan to see her.<p>

Aline was lying on a high bed surrounded by a vast bank of machinery and monitors. Sam glanced at the screens trying to assess her condition even as she was walking towards her. Her heartbeat was reassuringly strong and regular on the trace and the SATs and BP readings looked good too.

"Obs are looking good." She said to Dylan quietly.

"She's bloody indestructible." Dylan murmured in her ear.

"Dylan, be nice." She admonished him in an undertone. "She's your mother and she has been through a lot."

"And we haven't?" The worry was obviously wearing off and Dylan was back to being irritated with his mother for disrupting his life.

They sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chairs pulled up beside the bed. Aline actually looked pretty awful close too. She was pale and greyish and Sam wondered if she'd actually been starving herself to keep her "figure" she was so painfully thin Sam had seen people who had terminal cancer with more flesh. Maybe now she wasn't living in LA she'd see sense.

"Where've you been? I've been waiting. I asked them to get you ages ago."

"I came as soon as I could Mother." Dylan said impatiently "We both work in an ED we can't walk out on a whim."

"I might have known you'd put your job before your family."

"And where do I get that from." He snapped. "At least I won't be dumping Davey in a boarding school as soon as he's seven."

"Stop it." Sam told them both firmly. "Now is not the time for a family row. Aline if you carry on like this your blood pressure will go up and you might start another bleed. You need to stay calm."

"Why did you come back?" Dylan asked.

"Can't I decide to come back to England if I want to? I was born here." Aline said sulkily.

"You must have known it was madness to fly so far with that aneurysm." Sam said "Surely your doctor told you not to do it."

"He advised against it if that's what you mean."

"Then why?"

"I knew that my chances of survival weren't good. I only have one child left. We didn't part on the best of terms. I wanted to see you again. Sort it out before I died." Aline admitted looking at Dylan who looked away.

"You could have picked up the phone rather than risking your life on a long haul flight and creating a massive problem for Sam and me to deal with." Dylan pointed out logically.

"Would you have talked to me?" Aline challenged her son at once. "The last birthday present I sent you returned."

"Last time I saw you, you told me not to bother contacting you again if I persisted in throwing my life away." Dylan reminded her. "It's not as if I was ever the son you wanted anymore than Mollie was the daughter you wanted. If Meggie had lived would she have been good enough either?"

"I just wanted you to sort yourself out, although you appear to have done that. I suppose I have you to thank for that." Aline indicated Sam somewhat ungraciously.

"Dylan sorted himself out." Sam told her firmly. She did not add that she had merely added to his problems that was information Aline didn't need.

"I know I made mistakes Dylan but please try to see how it was for me. You're not a child anymore." Aline pleaded "My youngest child died suddenly and unexpectedly, her father who was a doctor didn't spot that it was more than a bug until it was too late."

"No one could have spotted it." Dylan retorted furiously. "Meningitis is like that. It mimics other diseases sometimes it's impossible to diagnose until it's too late. It wasn't Dad's fault, he didn't stand a chance and Meggie probably didn't either but you blamed him and he blamed himself until he couldn't bear it anymore so he hit the bottle."

"Yes and then I was a widow with two young children before I was thirty-five and the only way I knew how to cope was to throw myself into my job."

"And abandon both your children in separate boarding schools at opposite ends of the country." Dylan said bitterly. "We only had each other but you didn't just send us away from you and our home, you separated Mollie and me and now she's dead."

Sam squeezed Dylan's hand. She didn't think she'd ever heard him be so honest about the trauma of his supposedly privileged childhood. She'd always known he'd been a lonely little boy but she'd never quite realised how alone he'd always been. Her parents may have been far away for most of her life and if she was honest she'd always known she was an unwanted complication in their lives. It had not surprised her to learn at 15 that she'd been an accident and it was only her father's religious convictions that had led to her being born at all. Her parents adored each other and their work but there had never been room in their lives for their only daughter. Luckily she'd had Auntie Veronica and Uncle Charles who adored her and the run of the big house in Sherringham, she'd never known what it was to have no one to fight your corner.

"You think I didn't hurt when Mollie died? That I didn't care?" Aline was on the verge of tears now. "She was my first baby and neither you nor Mollie thought I needed to know that's she was dying. You didn't even tell me she was dead yourself. You got the family solicitor to write and tell me as if Mollie was a distant relative. I opened that letter alone in Stanford and there was no one I could even tell. I knew then I only had one child left and I needed to fix things."

"Which you did by being rude to my wife." Dylan was clearly not ready to forgive that transgression yet.

"It doesn't matter." Sam said hastily.

To her own surprise it didn't really matter anymore. She had Dylan and Davey and could afford to be magnanimous. She was also starting to feel intensely sorry for her mother in law. She may have been the architect of her own unhappiness but she had lost her husband and both her daughters and it couldn't be nice to know that you had alienated your surviving child to the extent that they preferred to be thousands of miles away. Aline was far more deserving of pity than resentment.

"I'm sorry." Aline said unexpectedly "I was rude but I had no idea Dylan even had a wife. Let alone such a young one."

Sam swallowed her irritation. Why was everyone so fixated on the difference in their ages it had never mattered to them? Well aside from her fear of him dying before her it had never been important. All that had ever counted was that they loved each other. Dylan did not appear capable of speech and she wasn't sure what she could say or do to resolve the situation. She wasn't good at emotional scenes or conversations it was so much easier to avoid them. She couldn't promise it would all be fine because Dylan was far from ready to forgive and forget. He'd held a grudge against his mother for nearly thirty years, she wasn't sure that he could let go of it even if he wanted to and she wasn't at all certain that he did.

Listening to Aline Sam could see exactly where Dylan had got his inability to deal with his own emotions from. He'd learned it from his mother who had clearly never come to terms with losing Megan. She wasn't sure Dylan had ever dealt with losing his father and baby sister either and then she'd let him down and walked out of his life just to make matters worse. Part of him was still a lonely abandoned seven year old. She just hoped that he knew she wasn't going anywhere that he wasn't on his own anymore.

"Like I said it doesn't matter." Sam repeated more for something to say than anything else.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be the perfect mother you wanted." Aline said suddenly to Dylan.

"I didn't want perfect." Dylan sounded as if the words had been torn from him. "I just wanted my Mum to be there but you were always on the other side of the world. You were so wrapped up in the daughter you lost, you forgot you still had a son and a daughter."

"Did you really think that?"

"Why else did you ignore us."

"I didn't know how to get through to you. I thought you and Mollie would be happier with Grampy and Grandma in Mintlaw than wherever I happened to be."

"We were." He said baldly.

"I shouldn't have come here." Aline said visibly sagging. "Once I get out of here I'll go."

"Where will you go?" Dylan asked

"I didn't ever sell the house in Cornwall. I'll give the tenants notice and move back in. I'll let you get on with your life in peace."

"There's no need to do that straight away." Dylan drew in a deep breath. "I don't think we can ever go back. It's too late for that but maybe Davey would like to know his grandmother."

"Are you sure."

"Make sure you don't let him down." Dylan said implacably "If you do that will be it. No second chances. Oh and there's not to be a word out of turn to Sam either."

* * *

><p>Aline had taken Dylan at his word and was desperately trying to build a relationship with her grandson. Intriguingly the detached and dispassionate Aline was very taken with her small grandson. Sam who wanted to build bridges took the baby to see her before or after work most days. She was still reserving judgement as far as Aline was concerned but her mother in law's marked preference for Davey had raised her several points in Sam's estimation and she was trying to make things work although Sam knew what Aline really wanted was a second chance with her son and it was doubtful that Dylan would ever give it to her. Sam knew he was not as hard and unforgiving as he appeared after all he had given her a second chance and forgiven her an appalling transgression and many men would not have done. It had taken him time though and her husband simply wasn't ready to let his mother off the hook yet, perhaps he never would be but he was letting her see Davey and that was a start.<p>

On the Friday she wasn't working again and as it was a bright sunny day she and Davey met Dylan for a picnic lunch in the peace garden. Dylan viewed most of the staff restaurant's offerings with deep mistrust and Sam could not wholly blame him. The meals were seldom identifiable as known foodstuffs so she'd brought ciabatta, parma ham, mozzarella, melon, olives, homemade lemonade and two very tempting fruit tarts at the Deli and brought it in for them to share. The makeshift alfresco lunch met with both Dylan and Davey's approval. Davey loved melon and was developing a very expensive taste for Parma Ham. Then once Dylan had returned to work she took Davey upstairs to spend an hour with his grandmother.

"He's very like Dylan used to be." Aline said thoughtfully gazing at the baby ensconced in her lap.

"I can't imagine Dylan as a baby." Sam replied. "He always seems to have been born old."

"He was a lovely baby. Molly was fretful and colicky but he was placid and a good feeder. He was a big fair boy like Davey too. His father was so pleased to have a son." Aline mused "From the day he was born he was his pride and joy. Then we lost Meggie and somehow I lost him too..." her voice trailed off and her eyes filled. "You're getting heavy Davey boy. I'll have to give you back to Mummy now." Aline hastily changed the subject and held him out to Sam.

"We don't say I'm Mummy." Sam said awkwardly taking Davey and settling him on her won lap.

"Why on earth not?" Aline asked at once.

"Because Dylan and I aren't his Mum and Dad however much we'd like to be." Sam explained.

"Don't be preposterous. He doesn't know any parents other than you and Dylan so for goodness sake let him have a Mummy and a Daddy like all the other children do. It will be utterly ridiculous if you teach him to call you Sam and Dylan. Apart from anything else my traditionalist son will never manage to be that progressive"

"I'm not his mother though am I?" Sam said going right to the heart of what caused her so much distress, if she was his biological mother no one would question her right to Davey and she could be sure that no one would take him away from her. The fact that she'd made mistakes and she and Dylan had had a less than perfect marriage in the past couldn't have been used against them if he was really theirs.

"Seems to me that you're the best he's going to get and your best is pretty good." Aline said surprisingly.

"Not everyone thinks that." Sam said ruefully.

"What on earth do you mean?" Aline demanded.

"We want to adopt him properly but months ago we went to see a solicitor and she said social services wouldn't think we weren't good enough and we'd have to wait." Sam explained.

"Rubbish! Why on earth would they think that? You don't get much better than you two."

"We aren't perfect." Sam said carefully.

"Who is perfect?" Aline said crisply. "I know I wasn't. I'm sure Dylan has enumerated all my maternal failings to you more than once. All any parent can do is their best."

"What if our best isn't good enough." Sam answered nervously.

"I don't hear Davey complaining. He adores you." Aline replied. "It seems to me your solicitor doesn't know what she's talking about and what you need is a better lawyer."

"Annabel Jones is supposed to be the best family lawyer for miles." Sam said anxiously. "Where would we find better."

"My son's never told you what I do has he?" Aline said in some exasperation.

"You teach law." Sam said bewildered.

"I don't just teach law I practice law." Aline explained "And I specialise in British and US family and adoption law. What do you think Davey? Should your grandma show those social workers the error of their ways and make sure you get to keep your Mummy and your  
>Daddy?"<p>

"Can you do that?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Of course I can." Aline was clearly supremely confident in her own abilities. "As soon as I get out of here we'll make a start."

"I'll have to ask Dylan first." Sam said tentatively.

For all he'd been softening towards his mother in the week that she had been in hospital she wasn't sure he'd want his mother involved in their lives to any extent let alone to the extent she'd be involved if she helped them to keep Davey.

"You don't strike me as the type who asks her husband's opinion nefore making every little decision." Aline said with some amusement.

"I'm not." Sam fired back angrily. "But I'm not going to agree to anything this important without at least consulting him first."

"Talk to him then." Aline said. "But you won't find better than me."

"I don't doubt that." Sam smiled at her thawing slightly. "I'll talk to him tonight."

"One thing."

"What?"

"You need to tell me everything, and I mean everything they could dig up and use against you. No matter how trivial or long ago you must tell me. I don't like unpleasant surprises."

Sam almost dropped Davey in shock. She tightened her grasp on the baby and hoped her consternation wasn't obvious in her face. Was Aline a mind reader? How could she possibly know… She must suspect something. Sam excused herself hurriedly and drove home wrestling with her conscience. Dylan would hate it if she spilled all their secrets to his mother and anyway there was no way she could tell his mother things she had not even told Dylan it wouldn't be fair. But she so much wanted them to be Davey's Mummy and Daddy she'd do almost anything to make that happen. If Dylan wanted to accept his mother's offer she would have no choice but to tell the secret she'd kept for nearly a year.

* * *

><p>She was on tenterhooks by the time Dylan finished his shift that evening. She wasn't at all sure what she wanted him to think about Aline's startling suggestion. Most of her hoped that he would put aside all those years of resentment and seize the best opportunity they were ever going to get of ensuring that Davey's future with them was assured. The other part was terrified of Aline's last admonition that they would have to tell her everything. There were enough skeletons in the closet to make them seem like a bad bet without the secrets she had kept from everyone. She was certain if they came tumbling out everyone would think she was an unfit mother possibly even Dylan would. Yet if Dylan agreed to let his mother help she'd have to tell him and she was so scared he would despise her if she did. He might even decide she shouldn't be near Davey and take him away from her.<p>

When he rang to say he'd been delayed by a stabbing in the shopping centre she almost cried with frustration. She'd spent the last three hours rehearsing the conversation in her head and now knowing she'd have to wait another hour was almost unendurable. Since putting Davey to bed, she'd scrubbed the kitchen floor, and made the bathroom more hygienic than an operating theatre. Poor Dervla had been forced to submit to a vigorous brushing on deck and was now eyeing Sam balefully from behind the sofa. She'd got chicken burritos on a very low heat in the oven and salad in the fridge in the hope that Dylan would react better to what she had to tell him if his stomach was full.

In the event she couldn't bear to wait for him to eat. The moment she heard his key in the lock she was on her feet and heading for the door. Dylan looked disconcerted when she flung her arms around him and gave him a big hug. "I missed you."

"Sam we had lunch together. It's only been a few hours."

"I know. Did you go and see your mother after work?"

"I popped up in my break. Good thing I did or I'd be home even later than this. It's been one hell of day."

"Did she say anything to you about Davey?"

"No should she have done?"

"She suggested that she could act for us and help, us adopt Davey. She seemed to think it would be a mere formality if she was in charge."

"She didn't say a word to me but it's not surprising." he said wryly. "She has absolute confidence in her own abilities."

"Must be hereditary." Sam replied greatly daring. "So do you."

"Watch it?"

"Do you think we should?"

"Should what?" he asked looking puzzled.

"Let your mother help us."

He was silent for a long time and Sam shifted nervously from foot to foot not really knowing what she wanted him to think. If he didn't want his mother to help maybe she could keep her secret indefinitely. Or could she? In the end most secrets had a habit of coming out usually at the worst possible time and when they would do the most damage - she saw it all the time at work. Was it fair not to tell Dylan anyway? He'd trusted her to look after Davey – would he have done if he'd known the unpleasant truth. Perhaps he deserved the opportunity to decide for himself if he wanted her near his nephew. If Mollie had known what she really was she might have made a different choice. Could she actually spend the rest of her life waiting for the axe to fall and dreading the moment that it all came out? If social services asked to see her army records or her medical notes it would all be there in black and white for everyone to see and there was every chance they would. If she refused they'd know she was trying to hide something. The only thing she knew with any certainty was that she could not lose Davey. Aline had been right about one thing he was as much their son as if he had spent nine months growing inside her. She would have to do whatever it took to keep him and if that meant confessing her last secrets to her husband so be it. She'd just have to hope he still wanted to know her afterwards.

"I'd rather not have her anywhere near us, but seeing as she's here and has already tipped our lives upside we may as well take advantage of it." He said slowly.

"The thing is." Sam took a deep breath. "She said she can't help us unless we tell her everything that could possible harm our case. She doesn't want any nasty surprises."

"Much as it goes against the grain to tell her anything." Dylan replied. "If that's what we have to do we'll tell her what we told Annabel Jones. We had a rough patch because I drank too much and you were always away."

"But that's not all of it," she said trying to keep the hysteria she could feel rising inside her out of her voice.

"We are not telling her about your affair." Dylan insisted. "We agreed we'd never mention it again and she'd drag it up and use it against us both forever and a day. I won't do that to you. We're the only ones who know no one can ever find out."

"It's not that" she said desperately "and anyone who looks at my medical notes will find out and then they'll know I'm not fit to be Davey's Mum.

"Find out what?" Dylan was clearly exasperated. "Sam no one will blame you for the miscarriage it just happened you know that."

"That's not even in my notes. I didn't see anyone I told you. This is far far worse."

Her mouth had gone dry.

"Sam sweetheart you're shaking. Whatever it is it can't be so bad we can't sort it out between us."

"No one can sort this one out. I'm a murderer." She admitted waiting for him to pull away in horror. "So I don't deserve Davey I probably shouldn't be allowed near him."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"I killed someone in Afghanistan. I shot an unarmed patient because I thought he was a suicide bomber. Then afterwards I had a nervous breakdown."

On the last words she burst into a storm of tears. Dimly she was aware of Dylan moving closer to her then he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against him. Sam buried her face in his shoulder and cried into his soft shirt. She was vaguely aware of him stroking her hair and murmuring soothing nonsense in her ear while he waited for the sobbing to subside.

"Oh Sam, it was an accident." his voice was soft in her ear. "My poor darling. Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want you to hate me the way I hate myself." She admitted miserably.

"I couldn't ever hate you. I love you." Dylan said as if it should have been obvious.

"Even now?" Sam answered beginning to hope.

"Of course now. How long have you been keeping all this to yourself?" Dylan asked.

"About a year." she confessed tearfully.

"Come and sit down and we'll talk about this properly."

"I'm not sure I can."

"At least try," he coaxed.

She let him tow her into the sitting room and acquiesced when he virtually lifted her onto the sofa. She couldn't help but be relieved that he hadn't recoiled in horror for all she'd seen the shock in his eyes as comprehension dawned. At least he hadn't told her to pack her things and go or that she was never to go near Davey again. She snuggled into him hoping he wouldn't pull away and was relieved when he held her closer.

"Have you really not talked about this to anyone," Dylan asked her gently.

"The Army made me talk to one of their counsellors it didn't help much. I killed someone and no one can make that go away." she choked on the words.

"I don't suppose they can." he agreed surprisingly gently.

She was relieved at the way he was taking this. Dylan had always been very quick to judge and then to condemn. She'd spent the last nine months dreading his reaction if he ever found out about her ill fated last day in Afghanistan.

I'm still there every time I have a nightmare. I can see his face and his terrified eyes when he realised I was going to shoot him. I hear his son screaming too. It's not been so bad since we've been back together. I sleep better when you and Davey are there."

"What happened?"

"I was out with my Medical Evacuation Team clearing up after a suicide bombing. We only had ten minutes because they were afraid there'd be a second wave suicide bomber. The little boy I was treating told us about his father and I went to find him. He was reaching for something; I thought he was about to detonate an explosion so I asked him to show me his hands. I asked more than once I can't remember how many times I asked him. He ignored me. I thought he was going to blow my team up so I shot him. The report said I fired three times into his chest but I don't remember."

"Afterwards he dropped the thing in his hand. It was a ventolin inhaler he was asthmatic, the dust from the explosion had triggered an attack. That's what he was trying to tell me. I missed the asthma and I killed him Dylan. I killed a patient. Now tell me how I can ever come back from that?"

"You're not the only doctor who's ever misjudged a situation and killed their patient. I've done it myself."

"You didn't shoot them though did you?"

"Well no."

"Exactly. I was so scared it would all come out at the GMC hearing but they didn't have any idea. When it didn't come out, I thought perhaps no one would ever have to know."

"Presumably the army didn't think you were to blame or they'd have reported you to the GMC themselves and dishonourably discharged you."

"I don't think they ever really wanted me back. I'm sure they were relieved when I decided I wasn't going back. They airlifted me out of Afghanistan that night supposedly to protect me from reprisals while they investigated. I didn't care I wanted to go home anyway. It was the last day of my tour and I was supposed to start another NHS secondment. That was postponed while I had to face a Board of Inquiry. They called it a regrettable error of judgement and exonerated me but I know it was my fault. I killed that little boy's father."

"It wasn't your fault darling."

"Well whose fault was it then?"

"It's one of those things that happen in a war. You were protecting your team."

"Tell that to his son. He was only little Dylan I ruined his life when I killed his father and I can't stop wondering what happened to him."

The tears came again then, she was wracked with guilt every time she thought about that small boy. She had thought about him enough before but since Davey the face of the terrified small child came back to her with increasing strength and frequency. She'd taken his Daddy away from him and without his father to keep them what would happen to the child and his mother? His fate might well be one of grinding unremitting poverty. The army should have compensated his mother but how could it ever be enough for the loss of a husband and father. If he did live to grow up there was every chance he'd be radicalised by his experience and that would be her fault too. She tried to imagine how she'd feel if someone shot Dylan and she lost him and Davey lost his Daddy. The thought was unendurable. Dylan held her close letting her sob onto his shoulder.

"Sam you said this all happened almost a year ago, but you didn't come to Holby until the middle of October what were you doing for three months?"

"I told you I had a nervous breakdown. I managed to hold myself together while the Board of Inquiry was going on but once it was over I fell apart completely. The army didn't want to know."

"Oh Sam," Dylan hugged her tighter "Who looked after you?"

"I looked after myself. Saw the army counsellor once a week and spent the rest of the time in my flat."

"That was good of the bloody Army." He said bitterly. "Putting you in the line of fire then leaving you to cope with the fallout by yourself. Why didn't they contact someone for you?"

"Because I wouldn't let them." She told him firmly. "They wanted to contact my next of kin said I shouldn't be alone but I wouldn't let them."

"Maybe they should have ignored you. They've got a duty of care after all." Dylan sounded annoyed. "Your Aunt Veronica would have been on the next train to whisk you off back to Sherringham and make a fuss of you if she'd known anything about it."

Sam decided it would be better not to tell him she'd been so insistent because Veronica was not listed as her next of kin he was and the last thing she'd wanted was for her estranged husband to know what had happened or to see the state she was in. Even when she'd had nothing else left she'd been desperate to salvage her pride.

"I survived." She said hoping to get him off the subject of the army.

"How bad was it," he asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Your nervous breakdown?"

"It was like standing teetering on the edge of a big black hole and I was horribly aware how simple it would be to fall over the edge. Sometimes I thought it might be better if I stopped fighting and I let myself fall down into the abyss. It would have been so easy to do it"

"Don't ever think that darling."

"Some days I didn't get out of bed." she continued. "I didn't always wash and dress or even brush my hair. I couldn't make a decision. I stopped eating and sleeping. When I did sleep I had nightmares and when I managed to eat I was sick. I cried all the time too, I still seem to cry more than I used to. I shook and I worried about everything. The only thing I didn't do was drink too much I know that doesn't work."

"At least I taught you one thing." Dylan said dryly.

"I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't. Did they give you anything?"

"I was offered SSRIs I told them what they could do with them. I didn't need side effects or a prescription drug problem too. I didn't think they'd help anyway. They won't make it go away."

He didn't say anything at all just cradled her so closely against him she could feel his chest rising and falling with every breath. "Aren't you going to tell me I should have taken them like everybody else did?"

"No. They won't help you learn to live with it."

"I wish I knew what would. A year ago I didn't even know that black hole existed but now I know I can't unknow and I'm so scared of being on the edge of it again. I don't think I have what it takes to step back from the edge a second time."

"Of course you do. Apart from anything else Davey and I need you. We couldn't manage without you especially Davey you're the centre of his world."

"It does help you know. Having you and Davey. When we got back together that was when I first started to think maybe I could go on but I don't deserve to. I don't deserve to have a second chance and be happy when I killed someone."

"It was an accident Sam."

"I still killed him, if I hadn't panicked."

"You were doing your job, protecting your team and your patients. It's what the Army trained you to do they can hardly blame you for that."

"But I do." She said despairingly "I always will. Some days I don't know how I can live with it."

"And you've been dealing with this all by yourself for months? Did you ever tell Veronica?" He demanded.

"Of course I didn't. How could I?" she said incredulously "Veronica must never know. She wouldn't understand."

"I think she'd understand more than you give her credit for. I'm amazed she didn't drag it out of you." Dylan said. "She normally has MI5 style interrogation skills."

"I haven't given her the chance." Sam confessed. "I haven't seen her since I came back from Afghanistan."

"How have you managed to avoid her all this time?" he asked in surprise "I was sure you'd gone there for Christmas."

"I told her I had to work." She said shamefacedly.

"What did you do at Christmas?" He demanded. "Were you on your own the whole time."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"What so Tess would invite me out of pity?" Sam snapped. "No thanks. I could have gone to stay with Auntie I chose not to. Anyway I bet you spent Christmas by yourself."

"I had Dervla." Dylan replied.

"Dogs don't count." She said crossly.

"Don't listen to her Dervla my darling. Of course you count." Dylan finished addressing his dog and turned back to his wife. "Anyway we went to Miriam's for our Christmas dinner."

"Miriam's? I thought she was Jewish." Sam was surprised.

"She is. That doesn't stop her from putting on a three course meal with turkey and all the trimmings and having a ten foot Christmas tree." Dylan grinned at her.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Miriam likes any excuse for a good meal and  
>decorations." Sam agreed.<p>

"Her children tell me it's the same at Easter, Halloween, Divali, Guy Fawkes. The religion is unimportant as long as there is food, lights and bad taste decorative objects. She's imported some of those enormous light up reindeer from the US for her front garden." Dylan smiled at Sam

Sam managed a faint smile in return. "Does she still embarrass her children?"

"Continuously"

"I can imagine Miriam could be really mortifying if she put her mind to it."

"I don't think she has to put her mind to it. It comes naturally."

"We'll have to be careful not to embarrass Davey when he's older." Sam added thoughtfully.

"Why? Surely it's a parent's prerogative to mortify their children." Dylan grinned at her. "I'm looking forward to it. In fact I am going to start planning the best ways to do it."

"Poor Davey." Sam's mood shifted imperceptibly. "You're assuming we'll be allowed to keep him long enough to embarrass him."

"Sam you haven't done anything wrong and where else do you think he could go? There's only us."

"I keep worrying that they'll say we aren't up to it and send him to a children's home." Sam admitted. "I can't bear to think about it."

The thought of her poor baby in a children's home filled her with dread. Davey had known nothing but love all his short life and the thought of him being deprived of his home and his parents and sent to an institution where however well they looked after him he would not be loved haunted her.

"Sam please try not to worry. If he was ours they wouldn't take him away from you for any of the reasons you've come up with so there's no reason for them to take him away from us because he's our nephew."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm sure I am. Now I know this is really insensitive and shallow of me but please could we have dinner before I waste away to nothing?" Dylan tried to sound apologetic but his tummy rumbled loudly making Sam giggle.

"It's in the oven I completely forgot." Sam exclaimed.

She hurried through to the kitchen. Low oven or not there was smoke beginning to curl out of the oven door. Hastily she snatched at the oven gloves and flung open the oven door. The kitchen was instantly filled with a cloud of thick smoke and she began to choke and cough on the acrid fumes even as the shrill sound of the smoke alarm filled the room. Dylan hurried to remove the batteries then flung open all the doors and windows. Sam held her breath waiting for Davey to wail his fury at such a rude awakening, but he didn't.

She removed the charred remains of the burritos and gazed ruefully at the healthy dinner she'd lovingly prepared for her husband earlier.

"Indian or Pizza?" Dylan asked and she could see he was trying not to laugh.

Sam considered taking offence and throwing a strop but they'd had more than enough drama for one evening.

"Indian I think." she said thoughtfully. "It's ages since we've had a curry."

"I'll give them a ring? Do you want your usual?"

"Of course." She smiled at him.

She heard him placing their order and deposited the burnt dinner in the bin without much regret. She really fancied a good curry. Mind you it was to be hoped Dylan was right and social services did not require adoptive mothers to be a domestic goddess because whatever she was she wasn't domesticated.

"What happens next?" She asked Dylan when he reappeared in the kitchen.

"I'll tell my mother what happened and we'll take it from there."

"You'll tell her?"

"Of course there's no need for you to upset yourself going over it all again."

"Do you think she'll still help us when she knows?" Sam said anxiously. "She won't think I'm not fit to look after him?"

"Sam she's acted for people who've been in prison for years." Dylan said in exasperation. "They've murdered in cold blood or caused the death of one of their own children. The mistakes you think you've made are small change to her. She's fond of Davey she wants him to stay where he is. We all do and anyone who thinks you aren't the best person for Davey is crazy"

He started to clear the table so he could lay it for dinner while Sam attempted to wash up what had been a rather nice ceramic baking dish Dylan's A&E colleagues had given them as a wedding present. The remains of the ill-fated dinner were well and truly fused to the dish and there was no way it would come clean in the dishwasher. In the end she gave up and decided to soak it overnight in the hope that it would soften the charcoaled deposits.

"Sam why didn't you open this?" Dylan asked.

"Open what?" she turned round from the sink to look at him.

"This" Dylan brandished a plain brown envelope that she'd abandoned on the table when she got in that afternoon.

"It looked like a bill so I left it for you to deal with."

Sam had quite happily gone back to letting Dylan manage all the money within days. She'd never cared much about finances. If she had money she spent it and if she didn't she couldn't. She paid into the pension scheme because she knew she'd be a fool not to but other than that she wasn't fussed. It was Dylan who cared about savings and investments and making sure they did not pay too much for the electricity.

Dylan ripped the envelope open. "It's from social services, copy of that nosey Murray woman's report."

Sam turned pale. "What does it say?"

Dylan scanned the document hastily. "We are atrociously untidy, I was half asleep and you are nervous."

"Oh God!" Sam moaned feeling slightly sick. This report was all her worst nightmares coming true simultaneously. "I knew she thought we were awful."

"It also says that Davey appears to be happy and healthy. He's meeting all his developmental milestones. He's very attached to you. She sees no reason to doubt that he is safe and happy where he is." Dylan said sounding relieved.

She reached out and twitched the report from his fingers desperate to see for herself exactly what it said about them. Sam skimmed the text rapidly, it was rather embarrassing hearing her home described as disordered and chaotic although she supposed it was something that Ms Murray thought it was clean albeit untidy. She had officially recommended that since they were both busy people a cleaner might be a sensible option. Sam suppressed a slight grin. That was already in hand. She also noted that in the long term a house boat may not be the best place to bring up an active toddler and that they might wish to consider this.

Apparently the arrangements made for Davey's care while they were both at work were satisfactory specially as Mrs Keogh; Sam managed not to be annoyed that Dylan was Dr and she was Mrs in the report, had switched to part time hours and relinquished her commitment to the Army. Dervla was described as a good tempered, well trained dog who did not appear to pose a risk to children. She had noted too that Dylan had not drunk for almost 2 years.

She found the last page and almost did a double take. The words were as flattering as they were unexpected. "David has been looked after in an exemplary manner by his aunt and uncle since his birth. His life threatening illness was identified promptly, treated appropriately and does not reflect on their care. They are both clearly making a real effort to overcome the difficulties that led to their short separation and I believe that their marriage is stable. Dr and Mrs Keogh definitely have David's best interests at heart. I recommended he remains in their care and Holby City Children and Families Department would look favourably upon any application from the Keoghs to adopt David."

Sam gazed down at the final paragraph unable to believe what she was reading. Against the odds they'd pulled it off. Somehow she and Dylan had managed to convince social services that they could do it. That Davey was better off with them than with anyone else. He could stay safely with them until he was ready to leave of his own accord.

She beamed at Dylan "Did you read this?"

"No you took it out of my hands before I finished."

She pushed the final page into his hands. "She doesn't think we're hopeless."

"I never thought we were. Anyone with half a grain of sense would know Davey's place is with us" Dylan declared

Sam heard the relief in his voice which belied the arrogance of his words and knew he'd been almost as worried as she had but she'd never ever get him to admit that. He'd probably never admit how much he loved Davey either but she was sure he did.

"If social services are happy does that mean everyone else will be." She asked hopefully.

"Sam I don't have a clue. We'll give my mother the whole damn lot to deal with tomorrow. She's getting bored with hospital now. We'll both get more peace if she has a legal challenge to occupy her mind."

"Will we need her now?" Sam asked tentatively.

"She'll sulk if we ask anyone else. Anyway I won't have to pay her. I had to pay that Jones female £200 for a useless appointment that made you cry. I've never trusted lawyers."

Sam couldn't help laughing at that. Trust Dylan to consider the cost of the legal bills even now.

It was ironic really if she'd opened that letter instead of ignoring it she'd never have had to tell Dylan anything but on the whole she was glad she had told him. He'd reacted far better than she'd thought he would and at least now she didn't have to dread him finding out the skeleton was well and truly out in the open and with any luck in a month or so they'd be able to call Davey their son and his place with them would finally be assured.

* * *

><p><em>If you got through to the end I'm impressed and grateful. Please let me know what you thought.<em>

_Thanks._


	15. Old Ghosts

_This is for all the lovely people who've been reading this and leaving me reviews. I am very grateful. This was intended to be the final chapter but actually there will be at last one more if not two because the plot developed another loop. It is of course totally AU now and off in the happy realms of another Holby where things I don't like don't happen. _

_I apologise there has been a rather bigger gap between chapters 14 and 15 than I ever intended. What can I say real life has very much got in the way of the writing and I have had the most appalling block when trying to pull this chapter together. It is still far from perfect but it is the best I can do right now. It seemed better to produce something and post it than edit for a few months more._

_Thank you for bearing with me. If you are still reading I hope you enjoy it. I will do my best to catch up with all the reviews I owe people soon._

**15 – Old Ghosts**

Aline was discharged from hospital less than a fortnight after her dramatic collapse. Dylan rather uncharitably suggested this was because Elliott Hope could not bear her telling him how to run his ward more efficiently for a moment longer. Even as she admonished him for unkindness and unfilial behaviour Sam had a sneaking suspicion that he might be right.

She had a feeling undiluted Aline could be very wearing on the nerves. She hoped she wasn't about to find out just how wearing Aline could be.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us?" Sam asked when she went to collect her from the hospital.

She hoped she sounded welcoming but in truth she was absolutely terrified that Aline would accept the offer. She knew she was a lousy liar and could only hope her real feelings didn't show in her voice or on her face. The boat was quite large as boats go but it was still a relatively compact space and she was absolutely certain that it was not big enough to hold both Dylan and Aline. He had agreed she should ask his mother if she wanted to stay but with a very bad grace. She knew he was hoping Aline would refuse and she definitely was. Their peaceful home would probably be a war zone within hours if she did decide to stay.

"Don't be ridiculous Samantha. The last time Dylan and I spent a night under the same roof we weren't speaking by midnight." Aline replied sounding almost amused. "There isn't a house big enough for both of us and you live on a very small boat. I don't think so."

"If you're sure?" Sam said at once hoping she didn't sound relieved.

"Of course I'm sure. Apart from anything else Davey is a dear boy and I'm very fond of him but my days of sleepless nights are long gone." Aline assured her smiling. "Anyway you and Dylan will be much happier without me."

"Don't be…" Sam's voice trailed off because Aline was eyeing her with such amusement.

"You're a terrible liar." Aline said calmly. "It's obvious you're terrified I'll want to stay. Don't worry I've no intention of staying on any boat that's doesn't have five stars and a cordon bleu menu."

Sam felt she should be insulted by Aline's views on their beloved boat but she was too relieved that they'd be keeping it to themselves to care overmuch about Aline's veiled insults. What did she know anyway it wasn't as if she'd ever seen their home.

"If you're not going to stay with us where are you planning to stay?" Sam asked changing the subject hastily. "Are you going back to the Holby Manor?"

"I don't think so, not after the drama I caused there." Aline still sounded amused. "I'll either be a nine day wonder or a barely concealed nuisance. Did Dylan settle the bill for me?"

"He did." Sam said suppressing Dylan's shock at the size of the bill for one night, dinner, breakfast and two unfinished cakes.

"I must write him a cheque." Aline remarked. "Do you know how much it was?"

"It doesn't matter." Sam said politely.

"Of course it does. Dylan has enough old scores to settle with me. I'm not adding to them" Aline explained as if it was obvious.

Sam said nothing she knew Aline was right and Dylan would hold the expensive hotel bill against his mother, if she didn't reimburse him and that in itself was odd because he was capable of immense generosity. She didn't think he had ever denied her anything she wanted even when she was still a student and he'd been keeping them both on a junior doctors salary. As for Davey he had everything any self-respecting baby could want. She also knew he had paid the deposit on a flat for a homeless teenager because Lenny had told her before he knew they were married. Lenny had not explained how he knew because she was certain Dylan would never have told anyone. She had deliberately never mentioned it to Dylan because she knew he'd hate it. If he wanted her to know he'd have told her he had always preferred to keep his acts of kindness anonymous. She changed the subject in a hurry.

"So where have you decided to go?" She asked hastily.

"I'm renting a service flat in Marina Mansions. Do you know it?" Aline replied.

Sam suppressed a groan she did know the place. They were overpriced blocks of glass and steel on the posh side of the Marina where all the expensive yachts were moored; they also overlooked their mooring. Aline would have an excellent view of their boat and their every move if she wanted too.

"Yes. I looked at them when I first came to Holby but they were way outside the budget." Sam said carefully.

"You'd never have shifted that son of mine from that boat of his anyway." Aline said "I was amazed you got him to live in a conventional cottage in Somerset."

Sam almost said something and then she realised Aline still didn't know quite how bad things had got between them and that there had never been any question of Dylan sharing the expensive flat with her. Half the attraction of the flat even though she hadn't been able to admit it even to herself at the time had been that on the waterside of the building she'd have been able to see Dylan's home and watch his and Dervla's comings and goings. She'd very nearly rented a studio flat she couldn't afford just to be close to him. She wondered if that lay behind Aline's choice of flat but decided it would be rude to ask. Aline was entitled to some privacy and she could hardly blame her for doing something she'd considered doing herself..

"Dylan chose our cottage." Sam replied calmly "I didn't have to persuade him at all. And I don't mind the boat. I rather like it."

That part was true enough; to her own surprise she loved living in the houseboat. Mostly it was because Dylan, Davey and Dervla were there and they were what made home for her now but it she'd grown to love the boat too. Despite its small size, it was warm and cosy home and she found it soothing living so close to the water and being in tune with the ebb and flow of the tide each day. She knew she was happier there than she'd ever been in her lonely, soulless flat or in the institutionalised Officers Mess in Afghanistan. The last time she'd been this happy had been when she and Dylan had lived together in Bluebell Cottage.

"You're easily pleased." Aline said dryly. "Mind you I suppose it's an improvement on tents in the desert and bucket lavatories."

Sam couldn't help laughing at her mother-in laws views on what army life was like. "Camp Bastion's not like that you know. It's really quite civilised. There's running hot water, flush loos and sprung mattresses all modern conveniences. I'm not that fond of roughing it you know. I like my comforts."

"Really!" Aline sounded intrigued.

"Really." Sam grinned at her. "Bastion is bigger than Reading it's far from a glorified campsite."

"I had no idea." Aline sounded slightly stunned.

"Most people don't." Sam said calmly. "I think Dylan still thinks it's like scout camp only worse."

"Dylan insisted on coming home from scout camp after his first night under canvas." Dylan's mother said dryly. "Do you miss it?"

"No." Sam suppressed a shudder. "There are more absorbing things here."

"I wonder..." Aline eyed her speculatively "Are you sure you won't regret giving it all up for Dylan and Davey?"

"Certain. It's not as if I'm giving up my career or medicine I'm only choosing not to be sent thousands of miles away anymore." Sam told her tartly.

"Hmm." Aline did not sound convinced.

"Look I wanted to lead a Medical evacuation and retrieval team. I've done that and now I want to do something else." Sam snapped beginning to feel annoyed.

"If you say so." Aline was really irritating her now.

Sam fought rising temper again. Dylan had told his mother what had happened to her on that last ill-fated tour. Surely she of all people knew that Sam never wanted anything to do with the army ever again. As for going back to Afghanistan it wasn't and never would be an option. She was gong to stay in the English countryside and concentrate on being a good doctor and the best mummy to Davey she could be.

"Aline I am never going back." she said firmly and not even trying to conceal her irritation with her mother in law. "Now if you've got everything packed I'll drive you to the Marina and make sure you have everything you need."

The Marina Mansions were even more ostentatious than Sam remembered and Aline had not rented a modest studio like the one Sam had looked at when she had wanted to live as near to Dylan as she could. Aline had selected a large luxury flat on the waterside near the top of the building. It was very lavish but not remotely like a home, there was one big bedroom and an enormous sitting room both of which had balconies overlooking their boat. There was also a luxurious bathroom and tiny kitchen which looked unsuitable for cooking anything except microwaving M&S meals for one.

Sam looked at the minimalist cream, glass and chrome fittings and was unsure whether if reminded her most of a show home or one of those hotel rooms which were so stylishly appointed it was impossible to relax at all. She and Dylan had stayed in a boutique hotel like that in Rome when she'd graduated. It was supposed to be a celebration because she wasn't a student anymore and people would have to stop calling their relationship inappropriate but they'd felt so uncomfortable in the hotel that they hardly dared to breathe and it had put a dampener on the whole weekend. On the whole she was far happier with their chaotic and untidy boat. Their sofa might have been made of a hardwearing cord in a practical dark colour but you could sink into it and relax and a few more or less of Davey's sticky finger marks or Dervla's hairs made no difference.

It took almost all morning to settle Aline in. She was still very frail for all she tried to conceal it. Sam had to unpack for her, make the bed and get some shopping in. Then Aline insisted that they lunch together in the residents' restaurant overlooking the Marina. Sam could not help noting how clearly their own home could be seen through the enormous floor to ceiling windows and she found herself wondering how easy it would be to change their mooring. She had a feeling that life under Aline's intense scrutiny had the potential to become very wearing. She didn't want constant observation from her mother in law and she had an uncanny knack for asking the one question you didn't want to answer. If this carried on sooner or later there would be ructions because Dylan would rapidly become impatient with being continually under his mother's doubtless all seeing-eye. She had a nasty feeling that the current arrangement was not going to be much better than having Aline to stay.

She was very relieved to escape after lunch on the pretext that Davey had to go home for his nap. It was a good thing she was pretty assertive or Aline would be walking all over her Sam reflected with a sigh. She'd had to use all her limited diplomacy to get away without causing offence – she was rapidly becoming aware that Aline was touchier than Dylan if such a thing was possible. It was probably very wrong of her to wish Aline had gone straight to Cornwall when she'd been so unwell and still needed looking after but she was sure they'd all get on better if Aline was a few hundred miles away.

Sam spread out a quilt under the awning on deck so she Davey and Dervla could curl up comfortably in the sun while Davey slept. She read for a while and then glancing up to where she knew Aline's window's to b she thought she saw a shadow on the balcony and stiffened hating the thought that the three of them were probably being observed while they had a cosy afternoon and then wondered if she was simply being totally paranoid. It was a good thing she hadn't been able to afford that studio. It would have been very wrong of her to invade Dylan's privacy like that. He would understandably have been annoyed when he found out and being so near and yet so far would probably have made her more miserable than she had been. She was so very lucky they'd managed to sort things out. She doubted that she would ever have been happy again if they hadn't.

When Dylan got home they could go out for the evening she decided on the spur of the moment. She'd make a simple picnic and a big flask of coffee then as soon as Dylan got home they could take Dervla and Davey and spend the evening up in the hills far away from prying eyes. They could walk a little, watch the sunset, curl up on a blanket and gaze at the stars in peace and quiet well assuming that Davey didn't have one of his tantrums. It would be a simple pleasure but lately she'd realised it was the little things that made them both happy. It was a pity she hadn't worked that out before she'd made an almighty mess of all their lives.  
>By the time Dylan arrived home, she'd made a quick trip to the Deli to acquire suitable supplies for an alfresco supper and packed everything they'd need to spend the evening in comfort into two rucksacks. He'd better agree to this or she'd be so disappointed, she'd set her heart on spending the evening on the hills now. She heard him pull up and went to meet him on the deck.<p>

Dylan produced his favoured half smile and reached for her unselfconsciously. "Hello darling."

"Hi," Sam stiffened slightly wondering whether they had an audience then deciding she didn't care she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly.

"What's that in aid of?" He asked.

"What?" She said slightly bemused.

"The enthusiastic greeting, it's not normal. Not that I'm complaining." Dylan responded the smile enlarging.

"I missed you today." She explained as if that was a sufficient response.

"I missed you too. Did you get my mother sorted?" He asked.

"I did." She replied. "And she took some sorting out let me tell you."

"That sounds ominous." He said concern beginning to edge into his voice. "Was she very difficult?"

"She's only gone and rented a flat in Marina Mansions." Sam said deciding to break the bad news quickly.

"What that hideous big block on the quay opposite us?" Dylan asked quickly. "Please tell me she's on the parkside."

"She's rented a waterfront apartment and she's probably watching us now." Sam enlightened him rapidly.

Dylan went rigid in her arms. "She's done what!"

"It's a corner flat on the eighth floor with floor to ceiling windows and two balconies with a view of our dock." Sam said succinctly.

"She's probably been out and invested in bloody binoculars." Dylan snapped. Then he suddenly seemed to relax "Oh to hell with it. If she's so intent on watching our every move why don't we give her something to look at?"

Before she'd had time to process his words let alone figure out what he planned to do. Dylan had wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him one hand in the small of her back pressing them together from shoulder to thigh and kissed her. The other was occupied in releasing her hair from its plait. Sam started in surprise then kissed him back with enthusiasm, wrapping her hands around his neck and tangling them into the thick hair at the nape of his neck. It was a nice kiss and she was thoroughly enjoying it when Davey who was still sprawled on the rug where Sam had left him heard Dylan's voice and objected loudly to being ignored by his Daddy in such a cavalier fashion. Slightly reluctantly he put her down and went to pick up the baby.

"Hello Davey boy did you miss me?" Dylan tossed the excited baby high in the air and caught him again. Davey squealed with excitement and wrapped his chubby arms around Dylan's neck. "I'll take that as a yes."

Sam smiled she loved watching the pair of them together. Now that Dylan was more confident and had stopped worrying that Davey would break the pair of them were so happy together. Even in the brief few days when she'd thought they might be parents she'd never really considered what sort of father Dylan would be. He was surprisingly hands on and prepared to make an absolute idiot of himself with Davey as long as he was sure she was the only one around. She often wondered what their colleagues would make of it if they could see him crawling around on the floor with Davey.

"Are you very tired?" she asked him optimistically.

"Not really. Why what did you have in mind?" He eyed her hopefully.

"Not that. Not yet anyway." She said firmly "I thought we could run away for a while. Take our supper up into the hills and stay until Davey's bedtime."

"Sounds good to me" he agreed at once. "Need some help with the food."

"I've already dealt with it." Sam grinned at him. "Everything's ready in the kitchen we only need to put it in the car and go."

"It wasn't really a suggestion was it?" Dylan remarked. "What would you have done if I'd said I was knackered and wanted to collapse in front of the TV with a takeaway?"

"You wouldn't have done and if you had, I'd have sulked until you changed your mind of course." She told him with a bright smile. "You'd have seen it my way sooner or later."

"What are we waiting for then." Her husband smiled back. "You pick up the bags and I'll wrestle Davey into the car seat. Did you have anywhere in mind?"

"Not really. Anywhere out of telescope range really." She said. "Where were you thinking of?"

"Why don't we go and sit by the Gorge. It will be light for a few hours yet and the view will be fantastic." He suggested.

"Sounds good to me." She agreed. In all honesty she was happy to go wherever he wanted as long as they had their peaceful evening together.

It was a lovely autumn evening full of mellow golden light, and still warm enough not to need coats, although Sam had brought them with them sure it would be cold once it was dark. Dylan parked up in the highest of the car parks well above the village and they abandoned the car, walking until they reached one of their favourite spots, high above the city where they could see for miles in every direction right out over the cliffs and across the estuary. Sam spread out a groundsheet then put a thick old quilt on top with a couple of cushions. As she'd said to Aline she saw no need to rough it when they could be comfortable.

"What's for dinner?" Dylan asked with interest. "You've made me walk miles and I'm starving."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam said dryly. "There are cheese scones with mango chutney, potato salad, ham sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, cheese, French bread, olives, pork pie, hummus, crudités and crisps."

"All made by your own fair hands?" He queried with a grin.

"As if! Davey and I went shopping in the Deli to buy our supper didn't we?" Sam admitted shamelessly. "There are meringues, raspberries and cream and fruitcake too. Oh and I bought some chocolate just in case."

"What are you trying to do? Feed the five thousand?" Dylan teased her.

"Walking in the hills always makes me ravenous." Sam said shamelessly "And I've never known you to not be hungry."

"You can say that again." Dylan reached for a scone and bit into it hungrily. "These are good. Much better than the ones my mother used to make."

"Your mother made scones!" Sam cried incredulously. "I can't imagine her baking."

"Only the once." He replied. "They'd have made excellent hardcore but they were unfit for human consumption. She said baking wasn't good use of her time."

Sam smiled with relief. That sounded more like the woman she was learning to know. She'd have felt very inferior if the uber successful professional Aline had turned out to be a domestic goddess as well.

"Well I intend to let the Deli carry on doing my baking." Sam said with decision. "They do it so well."

They had both worked up a healthy appetite walking there so they were fairly quiet while they ate. Dylan slipped Dervla the odd illicit slice of ham and Sam pretended not to notice. Davey tried a selection of finger foods then accepted a bottle curled up in Sam's arms. He drowsed off once the bottle was finished so she tucked him up in a padded sleeping bag in his buggy and added a blanket for good measure. She laid back on the quilt beside Dylan almost but not quite touching him except for the tips of their fingers which just brushed against each other. It was hushed and still up there even the distant rumble of the traffic on the motorway was silenced. They listened to the roosting birds calling and the far-off splash of the river tumbling through the gorge. The sky darkened moving through gold, to pink, then purple, indigo and finally black. It was a clear night and away from the streetlights they could see the stars shining in the dark sky.

Dylan shifted his hand slightly so his fingers were intertwined with hers and Sam almost jumped at the sudden jolt of electricity it sent through her. She squeezed his fingers in response.

"Do you remember the night we slept out on Exmoor?" Dylan asked her.

"Of course." She turned towards him and smiled even though she knew he wouldn't be able to see it.

The memory of that perfect night years before had sustained her through some impossibly difficult times. Nights when she'd been lying motionless in the inky blackness of an arid desert hardly daring to make a sound and she'd allowed her mind to drift back to the summer night on an English moor with a clear indigo sky, bright stars and Dylan beside her. Somehow it always comforted her to think the stars above that barren dusty waste were those self same stars she and Dylan had watched years before and that he could see them too albeit not at the same time.

They'd gone there to escape then too. Their relationship had still been so very fragile and new and they both knew it might not survive exposure. If anyone had found out at that juncture she's probably have been out of the medical school and Dylan might have lost his job. They'd been desperate to be together out of sight of prying eyes and Dylan had suggested she walk his dog with him after work. It was hardly a romantic outing but she wanted to spend time with him so she'd agreed. She had not been expecting him to drive miles out into the open moorland or that they would walk for miles. Eventually in the middle of nowhere he'd spread out a blanket produced squashed cheese and pickle sandwiches, melted chocolate biscuits and a flask of coffee. Then they'd somehow just stayed where there were, lying side by side on a blanket watching the stars and talking half the night. It was probably that night she'd known she loved him and it wasn't just lust although there'd always been plenty of that too. It had been a struggle getting through the next day in a busy ED after a night with no sleep but it had been worth it

"Maybe we should do it again." He suggested and she was reasonably sure he was serious.

"I'd love to but we'd have to bribe Tess to babysit I can't see your mother spending a whole night with Davey." Sam pointed out.

Dylan laughed. "She rarely spent a whole night with us unless she had a nanny or au pair with her. We could take him too. They had four season sleeping bags for babies when we bought his buggy."

"I can't believe you even noticed." Sam teased at once. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

"I just thought maybe we could go camping again. The way we used to." Dylan said wistfully. "It was good getting away from it all just the two of us and the dog."

"I'd like that." Sam said "Although it would be three of us and the dog now. Who'd have thought a year ago we'd be here now. Holby was just a place on the map for me except that I knew you were here and I missed you."

"I missed you too." Dylan replied. "I used to come up here with Dervla and wonder where you were and if you were sitting under the same sky somewhere far away missing us too.

"I wasn't so very far away last summer." She told him. "I was in a poky army flat in Andover trying to get my head together."

"I wish I'd known. I'd have come to find you." Dylan assured her,

"Would you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course I would." He insisted quietly "Sam however bad things got I never stopped loving and missing you."

"Me too, you've always been the first thing I thought about when I wake up and the last thing before I sleep. There were times when all I wanted was for you to hold me." She admitted turning her face away from his even though he couldn't see her tears in the darkness. He hated it so much when she cried.

"Why didn't you call me?" He said in an agonised tone.

"Dylan you kicked me out and said if you ever saw me again it would be too soon. I'd no way of knowing if you'd even answer the phone." She reminded him hoping the old hurt wasn't still there in her voice. "If you'd ignored me on top of everything else that would have been it for me."

She knew even as she said it, it was true and it was the reason why she had not attempted to contact her estranged husband nor allowed anyone else to do so. If he had rejected her there would have been no coming back for her. She would never have got over it. While she had refused to contact him she could continue to believe that if she did he would come to her. If she had contacted him and he had not come she'd have had no reason to carry on.

"Sam I'd have dropped everything to be there for you, if you'd said you wanted me. Surely you knew that!" Dylan replied in disbelief.

"How could I know?" She asked. "You said you never wanted to see me again."

"Oh God. I'm so sorry Sam. I was hurt and angry and I wanted you to hurt as much as I was. I never meant you to take me seriously." Dylan explained squeezing her hand tightly. "I didn't mean it. I was sorry almost as soon as you'd gone. I was just too stubborn to run after you."

"And I was too proud to come back." She answered.

"We're a pair of fools," Dylan said regretfully. "I wish I'd been there when you needed me,"

"You're here now." She assured him moving to stroke his face gently "Don't beat yourself up about it. You couldn't have known."

"If I'd been a better husband you'd have known you could call me anytime." He said guiltily.

"Dylan stop it. We agreed there wouldn't be any more recriminations about the past. Remember." She insisted.

"But…" He tried to speak.

"No Dylan." She reached out and put her hand over his mouth to silence any objections. "You are not going to spoil tonight fretting about things that can't be changed. The three of us are all that matters now."

Sam deliberately leaned in and kissed him, diverting him in the most effective way she knew how.

"That was nice." He murmured when she finally let him up for air. She moved intending an immediate sequel but he stopped her gently. "Give me a minute. I need to catch my breath woman."

"You're getting old." Sam teased even though she was slightly breathless herself. "Are you sure you're up to it."

"Up to it you cheeky mare." He said in mock indignation. "I'll show you just how up to it I am. Now shut up and kiss me."

She did as she was told and kissed him thoroughly tangling her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer burrowing close to the warmth of his body because it had got chilly as it grew darker. Dylan wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a tight embrace and let his hands slide under the layers of her clothes.

"Christ your hands are cold." She objected as his cold fingers touched her bare skin.

"I know. That's why I'm warming them up on you." She could feel him smiling against her skin even as he started kissing her again.

Sometime later he reached out and tugged the elderly quilt around them. They both sank into a contented sleep inside the cocoon of the quilt. The cold woke them several hours later. The late autumn evening had turned decidedly cold and they could just about make out their breath condensing in the frosty air above them.

"I'm sooo cold." Sam snuggled closer to Dylan wrapping the quilt a little more closely around them.

"I think we'd better take Davey home before we all freeze to death. This place is not getting any warmer." Dylan announced.

"I forgot about him." She exclaimed in horror. "Is he all right? He must be frozen."

"He's fine." Dylan reassured her. "He's sound asleep and there's no way he could be cold. You bundled him up like an Eskimo and Dervla is acting as his own personal hot water bottle anyway. We're the ones in danger of freezing."

"There are probably warmer places we could cuddle," she agreed.

"Since we've perfectly good bed at home." Dylan announced "I think now would be an excellent time to go and make use of it."

He threw off the quilt and leapt up leaving Sam feeling as if she'd been plunged into a freezer. She swore at him then after hastily checking that her precious son was indeed unharmed by his outdoor bed began hurriedly rearranging her clothes convinced she was about to develop frostbite, hypothermia, pneumonia or all three.

She struggled into the anorak she'd had the foresight to bring and handed Dylan his. He took it gratefully huddling into the additional warmth.

"Thank you." He said gratefully. "You know this is the kind of thing we criticise patients for. Going up onto the hills inadequately dressed and failing to take any notice of the weather conditions."

"We had adequate clothing with us." Sam replied sanctimoniously. "There were another two blankets in the backpack if we'd thought to use them too."

"You planned this didn't you?" He accused her.

"Not exactly but I did hope it might jog your memory." She admitted. "I've some extra coffee in the flask it should still be hot enough to warm us up a bit. Do you want it now or in the car."

"In the car I think. I'd rather drink it out of this wind." Dylan said thoughtfully. "For all that he's well wrapped up I'd rather Davey wasn't outside that much longer."

It was so cold they almost raced down the hill to the car trying to thaw out their frozen limbs. Dylan pushed the pushchair and Sam leaned against him to stop herself from falling every time she tripped on some hidden obstacle on the rough ground. She thought she'd remembered everything but the torch she'd got out that afternoon was clearly still on the hall floor.

They drank the coffee and ate the chocolate in the car while they watched the moon rising above the hills illuminating the velvety black darkness of the surrounding moorland. Dylan held her tightly against him nuzzling at her neck and Sam sank into his embrace leaning her face against his shoulder.

"Come on we'd better get that boy of ours home,." Dylan remarked giving her hand a final squeeze. "God only knows what social services would say if they knew we had him out after midnight."

"At least neither of us is working tomorrow. We can have a lie in." Sam said optimistically.

"Chance will be a fine thing." Dylan said wryly. "Have we had a lie in since Davey?"

Sam paused to think. "He slept until seven last Sunday and he snuggled up and went back to sleep with us until half eight."

"How times have changed." Dylan replied. "I remember when we'd have called that disgustingly early on a Sunday."

"I still do." Sam admitted."But he's worth it. I wouldn't change him for a million lie ins."

"Nor would I well except at half past five in the morning. I'd probably give him away then." He said rather sheepishly "But if we're going to get any sleep at all we need to go home or Davey will be demanding breakfast before we've gone to bed."

Dylan started the car and turned towards home.

* * *

><p>Sam opened the front door intending to wheel Davey out into the autumn sunshine and take Dervla for a good long walk. She'd had less time for exercise since Davey's sudden advent in her life and she figured she might as well take the opportunities when they arose. Somehow she didn't ever seem to run or cycle anymore and she was starting to feel very unfit.<p>

"Sam, Sam!" She started in surprise at the sound of an all too familiar voice that she'd hoped to never hear again and looked up Holby was the last place she'd ever expected to see him.

"Corporal Dean, this is a surprise." She said as neutrally as she could manage. She'd rather hoped she'd never see Ian again now that she'd resigned her commission.

"Colonel Bryant said you'd left the army and you wouldn't be back." He said accusingly.

"I have." She agreed calmly. "I won't be coming back."

"Is this because of what happened?" He asked anxiously.

"No. I have my reasons. Very good reasons" She said dismissively.

Reasons she really didn't want to explain to him. It was bad enough that he was here. She would always associate him with the incident in her life she'd most like to forget and would have preferred not to face any reminders. Sam wondered how quickly she could get rid of him without being rude and get on with her day. Her good intentions were almost instantly foiled by a loud wail from behind her.

"Excuse me." She turned away from him and pushing the door a little wider she plucked Davey from his buggy and picked him up. "It's all right poppet I'm still here."

Ian's mouth dropped open with shock. "Who's this?"

"This is Davey." Sam told him as the baby burrowed into her neck.

"Is he yours?" Ian asked bluntly.

Sam froze, wondering what she should say. Davey wasn't her biological son but he was hers in every way that mattered. She never ever liked admitting out loud he wasn't really her son. Anyway Ian didn't need to know any of the complicated history in fact it was probably better if he didn't. It would be much better if he thought Davey was hers and Dylan's.

"Of course he is." She replied beaming proudly at him.

Ian looked completely shell-shocked, "So he's the reason you resigned. It wasn't to do with…well you know."

"Of course he's the reason I resigned," she said brightly. "I was hardly going to risk another nine month posting. I couldn't bear to leave him."

"You're the last person I'd have thought…" He stammered.

"Thought what?" Sam enquired a dangerous note in her voice.

"You said you never wanted children ever." Ian said the confusion evident in his tone.

"I changed my mind - woman's prerogative you know." She joked hoping to gloss over the awkwardness. "Why are you here?"

"I… I wanted to see you." He stammered. "Do we have to have to have this conversation here?"

Sam considered briefly. She knew she should invite him in. It was only good manners after all but every instinct she had revolted against the idea of inviting her ex lover into her home. It was Dylan and Davey's home too it just wouldn't be right. Dylan would hate the very idea of him being in their place and she couldn't blame him. Anyway she didn't want Ian there invading their safe space. But they couldn't carry on having this conversation on the doorstep, people would talk - Dylan would hate that too and she supposed did owe him some sort of explanation.

"We were just going out for a walk." She said thoughtfully. "I suppose you could come with us."

"Thank you." He responded briefly and she could tell he cared that she hadn't invited him in but he'd just have to mind. His feelings were far less important than Dylan's. If only she'd considered her husband's feelings in the first place none of them would be in this mess now.

"Wait here." Sam instructed him. "I'll get Davey's stuff and Dervla."

She left Ian standing on the deck and disappeared back inside resolving that she didn't actually even want him in the hall. With a rapid change of mind she decided she wanted to keep Davey close to her and abandoning his pushchair put him in his sling to keep him near to her then collected the baby bag and Dervla's lead.

"Come Dervla, walkies." She called brightly.

The small dog appeared beside her in an instant and she led them both out to join Ian. He looked at her curiously.

"Thought you hated that dog?" He said looking bemusedly at Dervla.

"Whatever made you think that?" Sam asked him icily bending to stroke the dog.

"You said Dylan was happily married to his dog. I thought you couldn't stand her." He replied now definitely puzzled.

"Well you thought wrong." Sam snapped. "She's always been my dog too."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" His voice trailed away.

Ian sounded mortified and Sam felt a moment of regret she knew that she was giving him a hard time but she didn't care. What did he think he was doing showing up here and disrupting the life she'd spent so long rebuilding. It had taken her long enough to realise what she wanted but now she had she'd do whatever it took to keep her family together because that was mattered most.

"I don't suppose you did." She agreed. It wasn't actually his fault he was the last person she wanted to see.

"You and him you're back together now?" Ian said and she recognised he was stating a fact.

She followed his gaze and realised he was looking at the pair of rings on her left hand. They'd never discussed it but Sam had seen the faint smile and the look of pride in her husband's eyes when she'd started wearing her rings again soon after she'd moved back in and knew it had pleased him. It had felt right to do it she'd never quite got used to not wearing them even though she'd always had to take her engagement ring off for work. Ian of course had never seen her wearing either of them.

"Yes," she said simply.

"You didn't waste anytime did you?" He remarked resentfully. "What was it? A romantic reunion and you threw caution to the winds."

"Something like that," she said vaguely and justifying the evasion to herself with the thought that they had thrown caution to the winds and it was only luck that they'd got away with it. Ian would certainly have been shocked if he'd turned up and she was cuddling Davey and ready to produce him a brother or sister imminently. That would have taken some explaining. "Look. I know all this has probably come as a shock but Dylan and I are happy and Davey's the best thing that's ever happened to us."

"I…" Ian stammered clearly at a complete loss for words.

Dervla tugged at her lead bored with all the standing around and eager for a walk. "All right you daft mutt, we'll walk." Sam said grateful for the distraction. She reached down to ruffle the dog's silky ears.

She led them along the busy towpath towards the lock with its pubs and shops. Normally she'd have gone the other way along the jetty toward open country and the sea but she didn't want to be on her own with him. It would be much better to be around lots of people, which might keep him off the difficult subjects. The path was busy and Sam hoped they would not meet anyone she knew. She'd got to know many of the people who lived in the small Marina community, and knew many more people by sight. The combination of Davey and Dervla was a great icebreaker and she'd probably doubled her acquaintance in Holby since Davey had hurtled into her life. She certainly didn't want to explain who Ian was to any of her new friends. It was rather mortifying to admit even to herself but Ian had become both an inconvenience and an embarrassment. There was absolutely no place for him in her current life.

"Shall we get a coffee?" Ian asked looking over at Guiseppe's, Sam and Dylan's favourite coffee shop on the Marina.

"I suppose we could." She said grudgingly not really wanting to prolong the outing.

"That place looks good." He indicated Guiseppe's

"No not there." She said hastily. "We'll go over there. It isn't so busy."

She drew him over to a small cafe on the edge of the Dock and led him inside. They ordered coffee for them and Sam asked for fruit for Davey. She sat the small boy on her lap feeding him water and banana relieved with the excuse to ignore Ian.

"I forgot to ask you. How old is he?" He asked suddenly.

"Eight months." She answered at once without thinking.

Then she saw Ian's face and realised her mistake. He was quite clearly counting and she knew with sickening certainty he was going to put two and two together and come up with about eleven.

"Is he..." He could barely frame the words and she wasn't sure what answer he wanted her to give.

"Don't worry; he's not your son." She said hastily. "I'd never do that to Dylan. Davey was early. Much earlier than we thought he'd be."

There was no need for him to know any more than that. Actually Sam had still been in Afghanistan when Davey was conceived but under the circumstances her whereabouts were irrelevant.

"You're ashamed of me." He said suddenly accusatory.

"No," she denied at once. Although that was not completely true she wasn't ashamed of him but she was ashamed of herself and what they'd done.

"You sure?" He sounded disbelieving "You never used to care that I wasn't an officer and a gentleman. Now... You can't wait for me to be gone."

"I didn't say that," She said slightly desperately "it's just. Things have changed. I've moved on and my life's moved on and you're just not a part of it anymore. "

"Well I guess that lets me know where I stand." His words hung in the air and Sam didn't quite know how to reply.

"Please don't be like that." She replied quickly. "You knew it was goodbye when I left."

"I should have known I was just the bit of rough you had a fling with to make your husband jealous."

"It wasn't like that." Sam said defensively.

"Wasn't it?" Dean sounded very bitter and for a moment Sam felt guilty.

"Why are you so angry with me?" she asked.

"Because you made me think we had something special then when it suited you, you threw me away like a piece of rubbish," he explained heatedly.

"We both agreed it was nothing serious - just fun. I'm sorry if you got burnt." Sam said quietly.

"Do you love him?" he asked more calmly.

"Dylan? Of course I do. I always have." She answered at once.

"Part of me always knew you'd go back to him in the end." He sounded resigned now.

"That's more than I did. I thought Dylan and me were finished." Sam said more gently

"Nah, it was always there in your eyes." He told her sadly.

"I'm sorry," She said knowing the words were totally inadequate. It seemed she had a talent for hurting the people who cared about her. If she was honest she'd hardly thought about him in the last year and if she had it was only with regret that she'd come close to destroying her marriage. Instinctively she clutched Davey tighter. She would always regret that she'd hurt Ian but she'd never been able to feel about him the way it seemed he'd felt about her because her heart had always been and always would be Dylan's.

"It's all right." He said bitterly "I'm not going to rock the boat.

I never meant to hurt you, you know." Sam said apologetically

"It's alright. I always knew I couldn't compete with him not really. And I certainly can't compete with this one can I." He indicated Davey as he spoke.

"No." She admitted honestly "Actually if I had to choose between Davey and Dylan I think Davey would win."

"I don't suppose you'll ever have to," he said morosely.

"I hope not." She said quietly. "My husband and son are the most important things in my world. I don't think I could carry on without them."

"I should go." Ian said awkwardly.

"So should I." Sam agreed. "We're supposed to be meeting Dylan for lunch at one."

They paid the bill after a short sharp dispute over who was paying which Sam won on the grounds that she couldn't let him pay for her son and left together.

"Did you drive?" she asked wondering where he'd left his car.

"No I got a coach here straight from the base," He explained. "I've got a fortnight's leave and I'm going home to see me Mum but I thought I'd come here and see you first."

"Oh," Sam felt guilty Ian Dean had obviously thought about her often whereas she rarely gave him a thought and when she did she thought of him with regret rather than fondly.

"There's a taxi rank over there, do you want to get one to the station." She asked wanting him to leave quickly and get this awkward parting or with.

"You forget I'm a poor squaddie. I'll be getting the bus home." He explained.

"There's a bus stop to the coach station on the main road. I'll show you where it is." She said promptly it was much easier to be nice when she knew he was on his way out of her life again.

They were close to the main road and the bus stop and what Sam hoped was going to be a final goodbye when there was a roaring sound and the top of a warehouse and a row of houses across the street literally disintegrated in front of them. Instinctively she pressed Davey closer to her wrapping him tightly in her fleece. Sam was dimly aware of Ian grabbing her and dragging her and Davey into the shelter of doorway. She stood stunned as debris rained about them.

"What the …" she gasped.

"Building collapsed." He said succinctly "Sam there are people under there. We have to get them out."

Ian ran across the deserted street straight to the broken remains. In the distance she could hear sirens heading towards them and in the semi collapsed building a fire alarm was ringing. Water spurted from ruptured pipes and dust was flying in the air making her eyes stream and sneeze. Davey was coughing and Sam automatically wrapped him in her scarf hoping to filter the dust from his face.

"It's alright poppet," she reassured the baby gently. "It's just a bit of dust."

"Sam, for God sake Sam come on. Help me!" Ian called already scrabbling with his hands at the pile of rubble where minutes before there had been scaffolding and builders.

She was torn, he needed her help, those builders needed help but she had Davey. He could be hurt by falling debris or even inhale more dust than was good for him, he shouldn't even be here she couldn't risk her baby.

"I can't…" she said helplessly.

"What do you mean can't." he sounded angry and frustrated.

"Davey!" Sam explained. "It's too dangerous for him."

She could tell Ian was unimpressed. He'd always known the action girl Sam who thrived on adrenaline and enjoyed dicing with danger he didn't know the woman whose first priority was her baby. That woman shouldn't even be here. She should retreat somewhere far safer.

"Couldn't you, you know put him down somewhere." He suggested tentatively.

"No I bloody couldn't." Sam was cross now. "You shouldn't be there either. No one's checked to see if it's safe."

"You've gone soft." Ian was clearly disgusted "Since when did you bother with the rule book?"

She almost retorted since I was almost struck off but stopped herself in time. Ian knew nothing about that and she didn't want him to either.

"The paramedics and the police are here now. Why not let them do their job?" She suggested "You haven't any equipment or even gloves."

Ian continued to dig ineffectually at the ruins with his bare hands. Sam wasn't convinced he wasn't doing more harm than good with his efforts.

"Sir could you come away please. I need to assess the incident." Sam looked up when she heard the familiar tones.

"Dixie," she said in relief.

"Sam! Why am I not surprised?" The paramedic turned to look at her, "Your other half's not going to be impressed."

"I know." Sam said ruefully. "But honestly Dixie I was just minding my own business and I haven't dived straight in."

"I'll give you that." Dixie agreed. "Mind you that's only because you've got his Highness with you. You'd have been straight in there without him."

They could hear Jeff trying to coax Ian away from the site and he was clearly proving resistant.

"He's wasting his breath," Sam said reluctantly seeing that she was going to have to own up to knowing the recaltriant rescuer, "That's Corporal Dean. He's an army medic. I worked with him in Afghanistan and he's not used to NHS protocols."

"Just passing was he?" Dixie asked curiously.

"Something like that." Sam said evasively. She really didn't want to talk about Ian with anyone especially not her colleagues.

A terrified scream echoed off the buildings breaking the eerie silence that had fallen. It was coming from what had been a row of Victorian houses adjacent to the warehouses. It looked as if a builder with more enthusiasm than skill had removed a supporting wall and the whole lot had collapsed like a stack of cards. Standing in the remains of a first floor window was a dark haired teenage girl.

"There's a kid in there." Ian said accusingly.

"I can see that Sir." Jeff said placating.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Ian demanded. "We need to get her out before the whole lot comes down."

"I can't let anyone go in there without a structural survey." Dixie said patiently "It's not safe. I can't risk my team until after that building's been made safe."

"But she's just a kid." Ian was clearly shocked. "Sam you're not just going to stand there are you?"

"It's not how we do things here." She said awkwardly. "Ian no!"

She reached out ineffectually and much too late to stop him as he broke away from them and dashed to the stricken edifice. Ignoring the shouts and yells from behind him, Ian calmly walked into the crumbling house and made his way up the swaying staircase. Through a gap in the brickwork Sam could see the young woman cowering in the corner of the room, her long dark hair hiding her face. Ian was inching his way carefully along the uneven floor towards her when there was a resonant rumbling sound from above and the entire area seemed to be vibrate. Sam felt the ground shifting underneath her, acting on instinct she huddled into the shelter of the ambulance Davey still clutched reflexively to her chest and used her body to shield him from the inevitable deluge of masonry that she was convinced was about to annihilate them both.

She tensed preparing for the oblivion that was coming but it never materialised. Instead there were choking clouds of dust, and as the dust began to settle she could see a widening patch of blue sky sky. She coughed desperately trying to clear her lungs and was aware that Davey was coughing too. He cried in fright and she tried to soothe him. Her eyes felt gritty and uncomfortable and she was sure he must have sore eyes too.

"It's all right precious," She soothed him automatically. "You're safe. Mummy won't let anything hurt you."

She was aware that the police, Jeff and Dixie were beginning to run towards the wreckage and every impulse she had was telling her that she should be rushing towards the place where she'd last seen Ian. She ought to be over there in the thick of it treating patients. It was all she'd ever done but she knew she couldn't leave her baby. She was surprised by the strength of the instinct that told her keeping Davey safe was more important even than going to Ian who was somewhere underneath that pile of metal and concrete.

She was dimly aware that reinforcements had arrived in the form of the fire brigade and more ambulances.

"Sam I could do with some help here," she heard Jeff calling urgently.

"I can't…" she gestured towards Davey "I can't leave him."

"I'll look after the little one for you." A young WPC offered kindly but Sam shook her head. There was a BASICs doctor there and someone she knew vaguely from St James ED they could manage without her.

"Are you all right love?" Dixie's voice was full of concern. "You sure neither of you are hurt."

Sam shook her head "We're fine." She replied distantly.

She stood watching as they began the delicate task of extricating Ian from the wreckage. She was vaguely aware that she ought to let Dylan know she was safe. He'd have heard all about it by now and would be worried sick. She tried his mobile but it went straight onto answer phone he was almost certainly busy. The walking wounded had probably already begun making their way to the ED.

It took almost an hour to free Ian from the wreckage. They found the teenage girl quite quickly but she was already lifeless. The BASICS doctor got to Ian and managed to get a line and deal with his tension pnuemothorax while he was still trapped. Part of Sam wanted to run away but she knew that at the very least she owed it to him to stay until they got him out. Really she should be there reassuring him but he was deeply unconscious and completely oblivious to the difficulties the rescue team were having extricating him. She heard the BASICS doctor discussing with her colleague from St James whether they should amputate Ian's left leg which was trapped under a large steel girder to get him out and felt sick. It seemed that he was bleeding heavily and in danger of being crushed under a large slab of concrete if anything shifted even slightly. The fire officer in command of the incident was understandably anxious to get Ian and his staff off the site as quickly as possible.

It went against the grain to be a bystander and not to go and offer an opinion but she was aware that there was no way she was capable of being objective. There wasn't anywhere safe to put Davey down anyway even if she'd wanted to, which she didn't. She needed him close to her. If they had been a few steps further down the road and she could have lost him. She realised guiltily that she should have been more professional instead of leaving it to Dixie to establish some sort of order and instigate triage. This was the first time since she'd qualified that she'd stood back and let someone else takeover and probably the only time she hadn't been prepared to risk her own life for a patient. She'd failed as a doctor because she'd let her instincts as Davey's Mummy win.

She was relieved when they managed to get Ian out and onto a spinal board without removing his leg. She went with him in the ambulance while they continued to try and locate survivors. It was difficult to treat or assess in the confined space especially with her son attached to her chest but she did her best. Ian clearly had multiple injuries and was bleeding heavily from both legs – she had a nasty feeling he could still lose one or both of them and his breathing was laboured. He was only semi conscious but he was moaning in pain. Sam weighed up the risk of giving him morphine when she didn't know the extent of his head injuries and decided against it she decided she wasn't prepared to take the risk. They'd be in Holby soon enough and Nick could decide on the best course of action when they knew if he had a brain injury.

All she wanted now was to be with Dylan. She needed a hug and to be able to tell him just how frightened she had been for their boy. He was probably the only one who'd understand. When they pulled up in the ambulance bay she made a visible effort to pull herself together. She knew Dixie had called it in and they'd be expected. She also knew the major incident plan would already be in place but it would help Zoë and Nick if she could manage some sort of pertinent handover.

The door flew open almost before they'd drawn to a halt. Dylan, Zoe, Tess and Nick were all waiting for them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dylan did not sound at all pleased to see her. "I thought you were going to walk Dervla and join me for lunch. I've been worried sick."

"You know Sam. She was already on the scene when we arrived." Jeff said completely unaware of the bombshell he was dropping into her marriage.

"I see." Dylan's voice was chillier than a nuclear winter. And Sam saw the wall go up in front of her eyes. She was convinced he saw far more than had ever been there. She held Davey closer and buried her face in his soft hair hoping to conceal the sudden onset of tears.

"I was on the Marina walking Dervla with Davey when the building collapsed" she explained trying to keep her voice level but completely unable to look Dylan in the eye. "I did try to call you but you didn't answer."

"This is Ian Dean, age 25." Dixie interrupted smoothly. "Would be good Samaritan caught in the second collapse. Well and truly entrapped in the rubble and unconscious throughout. Possible head injuries. Traumatic lower leg and pelvic injuries He was complaining of lower abdominal pain, BP 60 over 40 – suspected internal bleeding."

"Why is he here?" Dylan's voice was dripping ice now.

"He… he just turned up this morning." Sam stammered. This was even worse than she'd thought it would be. What must Dylan be thinking?

"That was very convenient." He said and gave her a look of such disgust that she froze in horror, absolutely appalled. This was even worse than she thought it was going to be. Dylan must think. Oh God he still didn't trust her at all.

"I didn't ask him to come." She tried ineffectually to defend herself "He just turned up when I was taking Dervla and Davey out."

"But evidently you didn't send him away with a flea in his ear either." Dylan said disdainfully. "I thought better of you Sam."

"Dylan. I'm sorry. It... It's not what you think. If you'll listen I can explain." She said tearfully.

Sam knew she sounded desperate. She was desperate. She had to get him to listen, make him understand that Ian hadn't been an invited or welcome visitor. She'd thought they'd moved on but it appeared they hadn't not really. He still didn't trust her at all. Did they even have a future anymore? If she couldn't make him understand they'd be finished."

"I don't know what this about not do I want to." Nick interrupted smoothly. "But this isn't the time or the place. I need you in Resus Dylan so you and Sam will have to postpone your discussion until later.

"Can I help at all?" She asked Nick nervously.

"Hardly with Davey in tow." Dylan snapped. "Take our son into the staff room and see if you can't manage to take better care of him than you've managed so far this morning."

He turned on his heel and followed Nick into Resus and Sam was left to stumble blindly across the ED still clutching Dave and uncomfortably aware that everyone who wasn't dealing with the incident was staring at her wondering what on earth was going on. She reached the relative calm of the staff room then collapsed onto the sofa in floods of tears and wondered if Ian's untimely reappearance had finally succeeded in destroying her relationship with her husband and if he had what she was going to do. Davey wailed miserably in her arms but Sam was so caught up in her own misery she barely noticed.


End file.
